Like a Lamb to the Slaughter
by pigeon.poo
Summary: Some tributes are prepared to fight to the end. Others have no chance of survival. And each one of them is like a lamb to the slaughter. SYOT closed, but feel free to read. District 7 Chapter up.
1. Intro SYOT Form

Ok, I'm hopeless. I told myself that I would only write one story at a time, and now I'm starting my third fanfiction. Honestly, I have no self-control. But I really wanted to do this, so why not?

So yeah, Hunger Games SYOT. I've seen heaps of these and I wanted to try it. I'll only accept PM's (sorry- no guests). If I don't understand something about your tribute, or I want to know more, I'll PM you. If the district you ask for isn't available, I'll tell you which ones are available, and you'll just have to adjust some of your answers. Please don't make your character a Mary Sue or a Gary Stu, and try to be original. If I don't have enough tributes after a while, I'll ask you if you want to submit another character. I'm really looking forward to this!

* * *

SYOT FORM

Full Name:

Nickname:

Age:

Gender:

District:

Back-up district:

Appearance (be specific- include little bits of information you don't think is important):

Personality (be specific):

History:

Family:

Friends/ Significant other:

Reaped or Volunteered:

Reason for volunteering (if volunteered):

Reaction:

Reaping Outfit:

How do they feel about the games?:

What do you want to happen in the introductory chapter?:

Who comes to visit them after they've been chosen?:

Do you have a token? If yes, what?:

Anything Else? (personal info):

THE GAMES

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Training Strategy:

What you show the Gamemakers:

Preferred Score:

How you feel or react in the chariot (e.g. Smiling and waving or glaring and not doing anything):

Does the audience like you after the chariots?:

Interview Outfit:

Interview Angle:

Does the audience like you after the interview?:

Games Strategy:

Allies?:

Romance?:

Do you think you can survive?:

Preferred Place:

Preferred Death (if no one wants to be killed in the bloodbath, I will choose who to kill):

Anything else? (games):

* * *

I know the form's kind of long but I just want to know more about your tribute so that it's easier to write. Thank you for your patience, and may the odds be ever in your favour!


	2. Prologue

_Prologue_

Aquila LeBranze sat in front of the TV, watching the screen flash with different advertisements. The 138th Hunger Games were starting soon, but she wasn't excited. Not many people were anymore.

Despite only being 11, Aquila could remember the first Hunger Games she watched, the 132nd Hunger Games, when she was 5. She'd been enthralled. She couldn't wait until next year. She re-watched all the other games that her parents had kept. They were all so exciting. But then, the next year, the 133rd Hunger Games, were _terrible_. It was not gory. It was not fast-paced. And it definitely wasn't exciting.

All the rest of the games she could remember were the same - boring. The quality was dropping. No one found it interesting anymore. The only reason she was watching it at all was because it was a tradition. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.

Her parents thought it was getting worse as well. They said that since the 75th Hunger Games, and the failed rebellions, the quality has been slowly decreasing. And they weren't the only ones. Nearly everyone in the Capital felt the same way.

Aquila sighed and slumped in the couch as her parents joined her. This year's Hunger Games would have to be good if they wanted everyone to enjoy it. If not, who knows what could happen.

Cassia Jolibelle sighed and rubbed her forehead. As the Head Gamemaker, she was the one that received all the criticism for the Hunger Games. People weren't enjoying it anymore. She'd also received some threats from the president of Panem, Maximilius Barnbage, saying that if she didn't up her game, she might find herself in a 'bad situation'.

She had pondered what to do these Hunger Games for weeks, but still nothing good enough came to mind. Everything seemed to have been done already. There was nothing exciting to do anymore.

Just like that, an idea popped into her head. It was crazy. It was unusual. But it could work. She seriously hoped it would work.

It had to work. Her life was at stake.

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks to everyone who has suggested a character. Also, I'd like to thank Annabeth Pie for the support she has given (you may not see it as support, but I really appreciated it).**

**This was just a little chapter to get this story up to the top of the archive again. IMPORTANT- please don't judge my writing on this chapter, as this isn't really a good example. I was half asleep when I wrote this, and my heart wasn't really in it. This is some of my worst writing, and is just kind of a gap filler. **

**Thank you everybody, and there is still a lot of spots left, so please, if you haven't already, submit a character! It is greatly appreciated :)**


	3. Author's note

Hi all readers! This isn't a chapter, just an author's note.

To confirm, I am going to finish this story. I've just hardly had anytime to write, and when I do find time, I am a slow writer, so I don't get much done. I'll hopefully write a lot more on the weekend, and if not then, next weekend, so keep your eyes open. The first chapter will be District 1 reapings, with characters from **Annabeth Pie **and** SparrowBirdEliza. **Thank you to them, and everyone else who submitted a character.

For anyone who is reading this story for the first time – hi! If you haven't submitted a character, please do. There's still **15 spots left**! If you want to submit a character but don't want to get too involved, feel free to submit a tribute to be killed in the bloodbath. If no one submits bloodbath tributes, I will have to kill off other tributes.

Once again, thanks for being so patient with me, and if you haven't already, please submit a character. Thank you so much everyone, and stay alert for the next chapter!


	4. District 1

**Like a Lamb to the Slaughter**

**District 1**

_**Day before the Reaping**_

**Emika "Mika" Torres, 17, District 1 Female**

"Ok, what's 8091 minus 234?"

I thought for a few moments, before answering, "7857."

Grexic smiled. "Good, Mika, you're getting quicker! I'll have to leave it there, since you have to go to the Academy now, but we'll pick it up tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok," I said. "I'll say hi to Trinity for you."

"You do that. Also, can you apologize to her for me?"

"What are you apologizing for?"

He winked at me. "She'll know. Don't you worry about a thing."

I grinned, and gave him a quick hug, before rushing downstairs. On the way, I paused at my dad's door. I hesitantly knocked on it.

"Dad, I'm going to the Academy," I called. A grumbled reply came, but nothing that showed he cared. I sighed in annoyance and kept going.

My dad isn't exactly a very good dad. After my mother died in child birth 11 years ago, when I was 6, he became a workaholic. Sure, he got me the best homeschooling teacher he could find, and still sent me to the Academy, but he never eats dinner with me, or does anything with me. And when he talks to me, it's vague, and not for long. In fact, I hardly see him at all. I guess after all the years of neglect, I've become pretty self-reliant. I've fought my way up to the top of the Academy without his help. And I plan to keep on being independent.

I made my way to the Academy, where they're going to be announcing who is volunteering. Everyone was buzzing with excitement inside – wondering who Headmaster McLean would pick, placing bets, gossiping – the usual. I immediately worked my way through the streams of people until I found Trinity. She was leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, watching all the children talking and laughing. I casually went up to her and stood next to her. She smirked and ruffled my hair.

"Hey, tiger," she said.

"Hey," I said. "Grexic asked me to apologize for him."

She rolled her eyes. "Idiot husband," she muttered, but I could see the affection in her eyes.

"Who do you reckon will be chosen?" I asked. Being a trainer, she must have a pretty good idea.

Trinity pondered it for a bit. "Victoria Fleming, maybe? Although, she's probably not fierce enough. I don't know about the boys. There's a lot of strong ones."

"I hope it's me," I admitted. Trinity gave me a funny look.

"Really?" she asked. "Why?'

I shrugged. "Just because." In reality, I knew why I wanted to be chosen to volunteer for the Hunger Games. Because maybe if I won, I could get a better life. One where my dad actually acknowledged I existed. One where he would actually treat me like his daughter.

I didn't want to tell Trinity my reason, even though I usually tell her most things, because then she'd tell me that she and Grexic were here for me, and that I didn't need my dad. And I didn't want to hear that.

I know I don't need my dad. I'm one of the best in my year at the Academy. And I'm one of the smartest too. But it would be nice if he actually talked to me every once in a while.

"Gather round!" It was Isaiah McLean, the Headmaster of the Academy. All around, everyone fell silent, and the sound of shuffling feet was the only thing to be heard. I left Trinity and joined everyone else as they huddled around the podium Headmaster McLean was standing on.

"Welcome, all," he boomed. "Today, as you all know, I will be announcing who is going to volunteer to compete in the 138th Hunger Games."

I quickly looked over at Trinity as Headmaster McLean went on about how it was a great privilege and honor to be chosen. She gave me a thumbs-up.

"And the female tribute is…" Headmaster McLean paused, building up the tension. "Emika Torres!"

Yes! I'm in the Games! Apparently, I'm one of the only ones who's excited, because a ripple of angry murmuring spreads through the crowd. I can understand why. I'm only 17, and the volunteer is usually 18. A lot of the 18-year-old girls are probably going crazy right now.

I quickly realized I was meant to walk up to the podium and stand next to Headmaster McLean. I quickly wiped any emotion from my face and started walking. I was going to be in the Hunger Games. I needed to show everyone in the room that I would not let District 1 down.

I walked up the stairs and stood on one side of Headmaster McLean. As he waited until everyone had settled down in the crowd, I glanced at Trinity. She looked – shocked. That was the only way to explain the expression on her face.

"And the male tribute is…" Headmaster McLean said, and for a second, just a second, I saw a strange emotion cross his face. Was that… remorse?

"Jason McLean!" the Headmaster called, and the room erupted into even more of a frenzy than when I was chosen. After all, it's not every day the Headmasters son is chosen to participate in the Hunger Games.

I've never met him, as far as I know. Jason was tall – about a foot taller than me - and had a very muscular build. He had short, sideswept blond hair, and amber eyes.

He stands on the other side of Headmaster McLean, face hard, and with a start, I realized that I remember him. Well, it's kind of hard to forget the face I punched up until I broke its nose.

Trinity is probably my closest friend, which is why she's the only one that I let call me cute nicknames. It's our thing. No one else can. One day, when me and Trinity were talking, she called me something, and I remember seeing Jason standing nearby. I think he must have overheard me, because the next day, I was practicing sparring, he yelled out "Don't stuff up, bumblebee!" What happened next was all a blur. I got really mad, completely forgot about my opponent, and leapt at him. I wouldn't be able to overwhelm him in normal circumstances, but he was caught by surprise. I attacked him until a trainer pulled me off of him. He ended up with a bloody nose and a broken wrist.

To this day, every time we accidently see each other, he glares at me. I think he's got a grudge against me. Which isn't great for me at the moment.

Because you don't want to go into the Hunger Games with someone who has a grudge against you.

**Jason "Jace" McLean, 18, District 1 Male**

I finally disarmed my opponent, making his sword clatter to the ground. I kicked it away and held my sword at his throat. The trainer gave me a thumbs up, and I moved the sword away, before putting it back in the rack.

A slow clapping started behind me, and I turned around to see Jay leaning against a wall, grinning and clapping sarcastically. I smirked and bowed mockingly, earning a wolf whistle.

"All hail, the best of the best, the one and only, Jason McLean!" Jay said. All the other people training around us gave us some annoyed glares.

"Shut up Jay," I said, indicating the glares we were getting, but I was smiling.

"Well, you are one of the best," Jay said, turning it down a notch.

"So are you."

"Yeah, but you're better than me."

I punched his shoulder. "Let's just say we're even."

"Deal."

"Jace!" It was my father. He marched towards us, and for a brief moment I thought we were in trouble. But all he did was hand me an envelope. "From Landon."

"Thanks," I said, taking it from him. Landon's my brother. Since my dad's the Head of the Academy, I usually stay here and help him out instead of going home. Because of this, I hardly ever see Landon. At least I'll see him tomorrow. The Academy isn't open on Reaping day.

"I'll be announcing the volunteers in a minute, so why don't you two head over there now," my father added. I nodded, and quickly scanned over the letter as I walked. It was the usual stuff – him telling me how he's going, how my mum's going, what's been happening. I always enjoy reading his letters, because he's always so positive and innocent. I wish I was like that.

We all gathered around my father, and he gave us his usual speech – it's an honor to represent District 1, blah blah blah, we'll be remembered as heroes, blah blah blah – I've heard his speech quite a lot, so I mostly tune out. I only pay attention when he's choosing the volunteers.

"And the female tribute is… Emika Torres!" my dad calls out, and I frown at the name. I still haven't forgotten that day.

Emika has long brown hair, and short. She has scars on her arms, and some sort of cartilage piercing. She walks up confidently, with an emotionless face, and stands on one side of my father.

"And the male tribute is…" my father said, and the room went quiet. An emotion quickly flickered across my father's face, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Jason McLean!"

I'm pretty sure everyone in the room started shouting except for me. I had to admit, I was shocked. I met my father's eyes in the frenzy. They were sad.

Jay pushed me, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I quickly remembered what I had to do. I walked up to the podium, my face a mask, and stood next to my father. He congratulated me and Emika, and we stood, stony faced, as the room burst into applause. My dad didn't look at me, which was fine. I was over my shock now and wasn't worried. In fact, I was kind of excited. If I won, I'd have fame and glory, a house in the Victors Village, and hopefully a lot of fans. Of course, if I didn't win, I would die. But I have a good shot at winning. I've been training at the Academy for a long time, longer than most, due to my father. I have the skills to win. Now I just need to use them.

_**Reaping day. **_

**Emika "Mika" Torres, 17, District 1 Female**

I finish braiding my hair and look over my outfit. A black, flowy skirt that goes down to my mid thighs. A white button up shirt, tucked into the skirt. Black combat boots. Flowers braided into my hair. I add my last accessory – a small, golden, archery pendant. It may not be much, but it's special to me. If you turn it over, you can see two initials on the back – AT and AT. Annie Torres and Apollo Torres. My mother, who died giving birth to my brother, gave me it before she died. Sometimes, I feel like it's one of the only parts of her I have left. I check myself one more time in the mirror, and once I'm satisfied, I find my dad.

Reaping day is one of the only days he doesn't shut himself in his room, because everyone must be at Reaping day. He ignores me as I join him, just walking off, leaving me to follow him.

I haven't told him I'm volunteering yet. I wonder how he'll react. Will he be upset? Proud? Happy, even? Maybe he won't care. Maybe he won't even notice that I've been reaped, and just go through his day like normal.

When we get there, I split off from him, and find my way to the 17-year-old girls section. Some glare at me, some wish me good luck. I smile and thank those people. As our escort comes onstage, I take a deep breath.

**Jason "Jace" McLean, 18, District 1 Male**

I tugged on the sleeve of my leather jacket as I waited for the escort. Jay gives me a concerned look.

"You'll be fine," he said. "Don't be nervous."

"I'm not nervous," I said. It wasn't a lie. I wasn't nervous. I was just getting impatient.

Finally, our escort arrived. Ranima had been our escort for about ten years. He was in his mid-thirties' now, and had bright yellow hair that stuck out at all different angles. He greeted us all and gave the usual speech. Then, he reached into the girl's bowl, and pulled out a slip of paper. He had barely started reading it when Emika called out "I volunteer!"

"Lovely!" Ranima smiled as Emika walked up, stony-faced. "What's your name?"

"Emika Torres," Emika said into the microphone, and the audience cheered.

Next, Ranima took a slip of paper from the boy's bowl. He started to read it out.

"Henry -"

"I volunteer!" I heard myself saying, though I don't remember opening my mouth. I give a quick grin to Jay, and walk up to the stage.

"What's your name, young man?" Ranima asks me.

I take the microphone. "Jason McLean." The crowd members that know me cheer.

"Well, congratulations to our two tributes from District 1!" Ranima said. Me and Emika are required to shake hands. We face each other, and clasp each other's hands. She squeezes my hand tightly, like she's trying to break my wrist, so I do it back, ignoring the pain. We glare at each other for a second, as the crowd cheers, and I can't help but hope that I'm the one who gets to kill her.

We are escorted into the Justice Building, and into separate rooms, where family and friends can visit us. I sit on the couch and wait. I'm not expecting too many people. I never liked big friend groups, preferring just Jay. I also doubt my father will come. As the Headmaster, it would not be good for him to show favoritism to one of his tributes, even if it is his son. But he said his good lucks this morning, before we left.

The first people to come in are Landon and my mother. Landon, who is only eight, runs up and gives me a big bear hug. He knew I was volunteering, of course. I told him, and if I hadn't my father would have. He knew. But he's probably still upset about it.

My mother, Sophine, sits next to me on the couch. "How are you feeling, Jace?" she asks gently. I'm not as close with my mother than with my father or brother, but she still cares.

"Fine," I say. And it's true. I'm fine.

"You'll win for us, right Jace?" Landon asks, his big blue eyes staring into mine. "You'll win, and then we will be able to live in the Victors Village, and you'll be famous!"

"Yup," I say, smiling at him. "I'll be back."

"Promise?"

"Promise. I need to come back so I can see you train, remember?"

Landon doesn't reply, until suddenly he jerked, like he'd just remembered something.

"This is for you," he said, and pulled something out of his pocket. He handed it to me. It was a piece of paper. I opened it, and saw Landon's messy writing, spelling out 'You've got this'.

"It can be your token," Landon said. I smiled and put it in my pocket.

"Thanks Landon."

We just sat there, until their three minutes was up, and Peacekeepers take them away.

The next person in is Jay. I was expecting him to grin, tell a joke, and leave with a smile on his face, but when he walked in, his face was serious.

"Jace," he said, sitting down in front of me. "Look at me."

Shocked by his seriousness, I did as he said. "What's wrong?"

Jay pushed some of his messy black hair out of his face, showing his red eyes. "I know you're not worried about this, but you should be. It's not a joke."

"I'll be fine, Jay," I said. "I've been training my whole life for this."

"There's only so much training you can do," said Jay. He leaned forward. "Listen to me, Jace. This isn't a game. You could die. You're not invincible. You have to listen to your instincts. Don't trust anyone. Don't fool around. Be careful. Make sure you're prepared. Think before you act. Do you understand?"

I looked at my friend, who was usually laid back and calm. At the moment, his whole body looked tense, like he was waiting for something bad to happen. He only looked like this when it was important.

"Yes, I understand," I said. Jay's body relaxed slightly, and he stood up.

"Good," he said. "Be safe, Jace. I'll see you when you get back." He gave me a little grin, a small sign of his normal self, before heading out the door. No one else came in, leaving me to think about what Jay had said.

**Emika "Mika" Torres, 17, District 1 Female**

I gave one last hug to Grexic and Trinity, before they were escorted out by Peacekeepers. They had both been worried, and had lectured me about how I had to be careful because most of the tributes were going to be bigger and stronger than me. I had reassured them that I knew what I was doing, and that I was going to come home. They'd both still been upset, but they managed not to cry (well, Trinity did. Grexic let a few tears out.)

I wasn't sure whether my dad would come, so I was surprised when he shuffled in awkwardly and sat across from me on the couch. He placed his hands in his pockets.

"So," he said in a gruff voice. "You got chosen to volunteer."

"Yeah," I said. There were a few seconds of awkward silence. I had no idea what to say. Obviously, neither did he.

"Be wary of that Jason boy," he final said. "I don't trust him."

"Ok."

He looked at me thoughtfully. After a minute, he spoke again.

"You'll make District 1 proud."

He got up, and made his way to the door. Just before he got there, he turned back, and looked at the pendant on my shirt.

"Is that your token?"

"Yeah."

He nodded. "Wear it with pride. Your mother was an amazing woman." He quickly turned and walked out of the room. I gently traced the initials on the back of the pendant.

"Wish me luck, Mum," I whispered. I hoped she could hear me. Because when you're in the Hunger Games, not matter how good you are, you still need all the luck you can get.

**A/N: Hello, fellow Fanfic readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It isn't the best writing I've ever done, but hopefully it is good enough. **

**First of all, thank you to SparrowBirdEliza for Mika, and Annabeth Pie for Jace, two amazing characters I hope I did justice. I will expand on their characters in later chapters. Also, thank you to everyone else who has submitted a character. **

**If you haven't submitted a character, please do! There are still 14 spots left! It would also be great if you could submit Bloodbath tributes. **

**Please fav, follow and review. No flames, please – just constructive criticism. **

**That's all from me, so until next time, goodbye!**


	5. District 2

**Like a Lamb to the Slaughter**

**District 2**

**Warning: mentions of attempted suicide in Seth's chapter, **

_**Day before the reaping**_

**Seth Jackson, 18, District 2 Male**

_Water surrounded me. Unlike most people, who would try to struggle to free themselves, I just let it come, dragging me down, down, far down. I didn't mind. It would be a peaceful way to die. _

"Seth! Are you heading out to the Academy now?"

"Yes, mom," I said, walking into the kitchen. My mom smiled and kissed my cheek.

"Have fun," she said.

I grinned. "I always do."

I headed out the door, to be welcomed by the sun. It was always good when it was a sunny day. It makes it easier to be happy.

I briskly walked past street after street, excited to get to the Academy. I was excited to see who would be chosen to volunteer. I hoped it was me – I had been training hard for the chance to volunteer. Of course, it had become a lot easier when my parents had loosed off their expectations of me.

Just like that, a lump formed in my throat, as a wave of memories hit me, sending shivers down my spine.

"_What's wrong? Too scared to face me?" _

_My voice trembled. "Leave me alone." _

"_Why? What are you going to do? Is that meant to make me scared?" _

"_Just leave me alone!" _

"_Fight me! If you win, I'll leave you alone for good. I swear." _

_I considered for a moment, then quickly swung a fist at him. He dodged easily, laughing. I swung again, but this time he caught my hand and twisted, pulling my arm in an unnatural position. I screamed, and his laughter continued, cold and cruel, making my legs go weak and my ears throb, as he twisted, and twisted, and twisted…_

"Seth!" a familiar voice called. I was pulled out of my trance, to see Rome rushing towards me. My legs buckled underneath me, but before I knew it, Rome's hand was on my arm, supporting me, keeping me from sinking to my knees. He was murmuring something to me, but I couldn't hear him over the laughter still playing in my head, pulsing at my skull like a hammer. Then I was being led away, away from the staring people, away from the memories, away from everything. Rome sat me down on a crate in a secluded area.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said, even though I wasn't sure whether it was fine or not. "I can usually tame it, I don't know why I couldn't then…"

"It wasn't actually as bad as you think," he reassured me. "It wasn't a very bad panic attack. You would have been able to handle it. I just wanted to help you out of it."

I stayed silent. My mind was still replaying the events of my past, swirling around in my brain like a tornado.

_Being bullied relentlessly by a group of boys. _

_My parents offering no support, only pushing me to become the perfect career. _

_Death threats, being attacked from behind, hearing a crack as a fist slammed into my nose. _

_Feeling like nothing would ever be happy or cheerful again._

_Almost plunging a knife into my heart. _

_Trying to hang myself, drown myself, kill myself._

_My parents catching me trying to kill myself with a medicine overdose. _

_My mom crying when she realized what they'd done to me, what she'd done to me. _

Ever since they caught me that night, when I was 14, they loosened off their expectations of me, let me do what I wanted, not what they wanted. They helped me out of my depression, helping me become myself. Eventually, the bullying ceased, and I was able to train better at the Academy, without the worry of getting punched up. But even now, I have flashbacks and panic attacks from those dreadful years of depression.

"Do you want me to walk you to the Academy?" Rome asked.

"Nah, I'm good," I said, standing up. Rome frowned.

"No, you're not," he decided. "I'll come with you." He shut down all my protests, and eventually I gave in. We walked together in a comfortable silence.

I had met Rome just after I had recovered from my depression. We met while training at the Academy, and we instantly became friends. Of course, he never met the old me, only the new me. The happy me.

We got to Academy, and Rome gave me a fist bump before going on his way. Rome was 19 now and had missed out on being able to volunteer.

Inside the Academy, everyone was buzzing with excitement. I grinned, my previous panic attack forgotten in the moment.

"Hey, Seth!" a familiar voice said, and I turned to see my other friend, Quilt, standing behind me.

"Hey!" I replied, happy to see him. Although, it hit a little to close to home from my panic attack.

Quilt must have seen my face, because his face instantly became a mix of guilt, wariness, sorrow and disappointment. "Panic attack?"

I smiled, trying to wipe the flashbacks out of my mind. "Yeah, but it's fine."

Quilt still looked doubtful, but left it alone, as the Headmaster got onto the podium and got our attention.

**Alexandra "Alex" Thomas, 13, District 2 Female**

"You stupid girl!" my mother yelled. "Get out! Get out!"

I willingly obeyed, rushing out of the house before my mom could throw something else. I didn't stop to see where I was going – I just walked. Mom's words were still ringing in my ears.

I realized my hand was bleeding from a gash on the palm. I must have accidentally touched a piece of broken glass. It wasn't too bad – nothing major. I kept walking.

Although I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, I knew where my feet were taking me – to the academy, where my boyfriend Daniel was meeting me so I could help him train. Even though he's only 13, he likes to train as if he'll be in the Hunger Games.

I make it to the Academy, and quickly locate Daniel, who's waiting for me by the sword rack. He saw me and smiled, and any doubts I ever had our relationship vanished.

Daniel and I have a complicated, probably not even legal, relationship. We're not related by blood, thank goodness, but we're related in marriage. When my dad broke up with my mom, he remarried – to Daniel's mom. So technically, my father is Daniel's stepfather. It's all very confusing, but we just ignore it.

I have mixed feelings about my father. After he abandoned us, my mom got into drugs and alcohol, and slowly went mad. So, in a way, it was kind of his fault that my mother is who she is now. On the other hand, he couldn't exactly help it that my mom went crazy, and it's kind of her fault as well. So, I'm not sure how I feel about my dad.

"Who do think will be chosen?" Daniel asked me as he practiced beheading a dummy.

I shrugged. "I don't know about the boys. But the girl will be Penny Cruzodivic. She's the only girl who is actually any good. We had a bad bunch of girls that year, obviously."

Daniel slashed again. "I'm going to volunteer when I'm 18."

"You'd be able to win."

"Hopefully. And then you could live in the Victor's Village with me."

I smiled. "That would be good."

I watched him train for about 10 minutes before the Headmaster asked for everyone's attention. We gathered around the podium to watch. There weren't many people my age in the crowd – mostly older people who have a chance of being chosen. A rowdy group of boys were laughing and shoving each other, while a group of girls kept on glancing at them and whispering. Daniel and I stayed at the back of the crowd, which was slightly inconvenient, because we were shorter than everyone else, so we couldn't see the podium.

"Welcome, students of the Academy!" the Headmaster called, making the room fall silent. I craned my neck to see what was happening. I could only just see the Headmaster over the sea of heads. He was giving his speech about honor and doing us proud. Apparently, it was like this every year, because the crowd was getting restless. Finally, after what seemed like a decade, he finished.

"The female tribute is…" he paused for dramatic effect. "Penelope Cruzodivic!"

I gave Daniel a grin that said _I was right! _He smiled and rolled his eyes playfully as Penelope walked up to the stage.

"And the male tribute is… Seth Jackson!"

I didn't recognize the name, or the person. As he walked up, I studied him. He had short blond hair, blue eyes and light skin. He wasn't very muscular, I noticed, but he wasn't badly built either. He was grinning like mad.

The Headmaster gave a short little ending speech, and then we were all told to go on our way. The crowd mostly disappeared, except for a few people still training, including Daniel. Some 18-year-old boys were muttering angrily about the choice, and there was a crowd of girls surrounding Penny Cruzodivic, congratulating her and wishing her good luck. I saw Seth Jackson and his friend – Quilt? I think his name's Quilt Reap – walking out of the Academy excitedly.

As Daniel kept training, I sat down and opened my book, excited for the events ahead.

_**Reaping Day**_

**Seth Jackson, 18, District 2 Male**

_I was standing in my bedroom, looking at the piece of rope in my hands. I could still feel the bruises on my arms from yesterday. I could make all the pain go away. And I wanted to. So, trying to ignore the pain I felt every time I moved my arms, I started making a noose. _

I couldn't help but wonder if yesterday had just been a dream as I checked over my outfit in the mirror.

My parents had been so happy when I told them. It had always been what they wanted, for me to become a Career. Even after I'd recovered from my depression, they had still had a longing for me to train at the Academy, even though they told me I could do whatever made me happy. I'd still continued to train, which pleased them.

My parents were still getting ready, so I said goodbye and headed out to meet Rome and Quilt. They met me at the designated spot, grinning.

"Here he is, the man himself, Seth Jackson!" Rome joked as I walked up to them.

"Soon to be victor of the 138th Hunger Games!" Quilt added.

I smiled. "Yeah, it's awesome to have been chosen. And Penelope is strong, so we'll have a good chance for District 2 this year."

Rome's face instantly switched from happiness to confusion. "Wait, didn't you hear the news?"

**Alexandra Thomas, 13, District 2 Female**

"Alex!" My best, and only, friend, Amy, came running up as soon as I got to the square. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Penny Cruzodivic has caught that virus going around! She won't be able to volunteer!"

"Really? Who's going to volunteer?"

"No one," Amy told me as we walked to the 13-year-old girl section. "The Headmaster gave orders that whoever got reaped would be the tribute."

"Wow," I said, surprised at this move. "What if it's a 12-year-old?"

Amy shrugged. "I don't know. Although, most people have done some sort of training, so we should be fine. Maybe a 12-year-old's size will be able to help them?"

"It's still strange. I didn't think he'd risk sending in an inexperienced tribute."

"Well, I don't know how he thinks, so I have no idea why. I hope it's not me."

I shook my head. "Don't worry. I'm sure that someone will still volunteer, even if they were told not to. We live in District 2. Everyone wants to volunteer."

Amy still looked unsure, but she nodded anyway.

We took our place, and I saw Daniel in his area. I waved at him, and he grinned back.

I also saw Penny Cruzodivic in the 18-year-old girl section. Her skin was pale, her eyes had bags underneath them, and her nose was bright red. This virus had been spreading around town for a while, and left the victim feeling weak and fatigued. Of course she wouldn't be able to volunteer like this.

I looked up on stage, and saw my dad sitting in one of the chairs. He is talking to the escort and one of the victors, laughing merrily.

Did I forget to mention that my dad is the mayor of District 2?

After a speech by my dad, followed by a speech by the escort, Albina, it was finally time.

Albina put her hand into the girls bowl, and pulled it out dramatically. "And the female tribute for District 2 is…

"Alexandra Thomas!"

I froze. Me? My name was pulled out of the reaping bowl? I had a few seconds where I completely panicked, but then I remembered what I had said to Amy, just a few minutes ago. We live in District 2. Someone will volunteer for me.

I walked out of my section, confident that someone was about to volunteer. They wouldn't let a 13-year-old girl compete in the Hunger Games.

By the time I got halfway up, I wasn't so sure. Usually someone would have volunteered by now. Why weren't they?

By the time I was climbing up the stairs, I had realized no one was going to volunteer for me. Everyone had listened to the Headmaster. Whoever was reaped was going into the Hunger Games. And that person was me.

"Awesome!" Albina smiled, as I took my place next to her on the stage. She then put her hand in the boys bowl, and pulled out a piece of paper. She hadn't even opened her mouth, when Seth yelled out that he volunteered. The crowd cheered like it usually did when there was a volunteer.

He walked up to the stage, grinning the whole time, and when Albina asked him what his name was, he answered, "Seth Jackson, the future victor of the 138th Hunger Games," which made the crowd cheer.

I stood in a daze as Albina talked some more, until we were told to shake hands. Seth shook my hand with a smile, and gave it an encouraging squeeze. He could obviously see that I was still not sure what had happened.

**Seth Jackson, 18, District 2 Male**

_I looked into his grey eyes, those grey eyes that had just inflicted so much pain. I was lying on the ground, a massive cut on my head, an arm I was pretty sure was broken, and grazes all down my legs. He laughed at what he had done to me and walked off. I reached up to my head with my good arm, and my hand came back covered in blood. _

I waited in the Justice Building for visitors, still smiling. I was excited. This would be a way to prove myself, show that despite my past, I can be strong.

The first one's in were my parents, as I expected. They swallowed me in a hug, and refused to let go.

"We're so proud of you, Seth," my mother, Sally, said.

My father beamed in pride. "You're going to go out there and be the best victor District 2 has ever had."

"Thanks Mom, Dad," I said. "I'll come home. I promise."

We talked for the remainder of the three minutes, until they were escorted out by Peacekeepers.

The next one's in were Rome and Quilt. They whooped and hi-fived me. I was happy to see that Quilt wasn't too disappointed that he didn't get to go in the Hunger Games, since he was still eligible.

"How're you feeling?" Rome asked.

"Good."

"Well, you need to be at the top of your game in that arena," he said. "Got to remember your training, keep your head in the game, and make sure you come home."

"Yeah, I know."

"Okay, Seth, you've got to listen to me," Quilt said, and I focused on his grey eyes, those grey eyes that I've come to know as a friend, but still haunt me each night.

"You can't have a panic attack in the middle of the games, okay?" he said, looking at me. "You can't think about it at all. Wipe it from your mind. Don't think about it. Avoid it at any cost. It could cost you the game for you to have a panic attack. Okay?"

I nodded, knowing he was right. I had to keep my memories under control. I had to lock them up and throw away the key if I wanted to survive. He knew how bad those memories are. He knew how much pain I had gone through, and how much pain it gave me to think about it. After all, he had inflicted some of that pain, along with some of his friends.

**Alexandra "Alex" Thomas, 13, District 2 Female**

Everything was a blur. I mostly just sat there as Amy hugged me until I couldn't breathe, and Daniel begged me to come home. I just sat, not talking, as everyone told me I could do it when they obviously didn't believe that I could.

"Hello, Alex," a familiar voice said, and I looked up to see Maya standing in the doorway.

I leapt up and throw myself into her arms, trying to stifle my sobs, and Maya murmured to me and stroked my hair.

Maya was like a second mother to me. She was a friend of my mother's before she went mad, and after that had helped look after me and my mother. I'd become used to her presence.

Maya eased out of the hug. "Do you have a token?" I shook my head, sniffing. She nodded and took something out of her pocket, something I recognized. It was a small key that had been given to me by my mother before she lost her mind.

"_Keep this key, Alex," _she had said. _"Whenever you need it, it will always be there for you." _

"Thank you, Maya," I said, taking the key out of her hand. I placed it in my pocket.

"Good luck, Alex," Maya said, placing her hands on my shoulders. "You can survive this. You are smart enough. You just need to figure out how to use them."

She left, and no one else came in. I wiped my hand over my eyes and took a deep breath.

Maya was telling the truth. She believed I could win. I can't let her down.

_Come on, Alex,_ I told myself. _You can do this. _

I can do this.

* * *

**A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry it took me a while to get this up – I've been very busy recently, and then when I did have time to write, I had a massive writer's block. I feel like this isn't my best writing, but I hope you enjoyed it. **

**Thank you to Veronicaiscool for Alex and Guesttwelve for Seth! If you are reading this and you haven't submitted a tribute or two yet – please do, but do it quick! There are only four spots left. It would be extremely helpful if they were Bloodbaths, otherwise I'll have to kill some that weren't meant to be bloodbaths, and I would hate to do that.**

**Please follow, favorite and review! No flames please, just constructive criticism. Thank you, and keep your ears open for the District 3 Reapings!**


	6. District 3

**Like a Lamb to the Slaughter**

**District 3**

_**Day before the reaping**_

**Windows Foresight, 16, District 3 Male**

"Do it."

The 12-year-old looked terrified, but firmly shook his head. I grinned. Although it was inconvenient to me, I had to admire when young kids stood up to me. Lots of spirit.

"Listen," I said, in my best persuasive voice. "You need the food to survive. Do you really think you, your parents and your younger sister can make do with the microscopic amount of food you have? Just sign up for tesserae, and you might have a chance."

The kid considered my words, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head. Finally, like all the kids, he nodded reluctantly.

"Very good. Now go back to your mother."

The boy nodded, and quickly ran away. I smiled and put my hands in my pocket. That was much easier than I expected.

I didn't actually care whether that kid had enough food. If he died, I wouldn't have cared. The same goes to the other kids I'd convinced to put their names in more times in exchange for a year's supply of grain and oil. The only reason I got them to is so that there was less chance it was my name drawn out of the reaping bowl.

I strolled through District 3, humming to myself. As I walked, I noticed people reacting to me – some glare, some avoid eye contact. I saw Jeramy Watts, the 15-year-old boy I've been manipulating into signing up for tesserae every year, glaring at me, and Nathan Gregson, the cowardly 13-year-old that agreed with no hesitation, seeing me and squeaking. Honestly, it's amusing to watch them. Watching them struggle with the fear of being reaped or the fear of dying of starvation. Watching them sign up for tesserae, some with shaking hands, some staying strong. Watching them look terrified as they stand at the Reaping, hoping they didn't make the wrong choice.

I made it to my destination – outside Servestic's house. He was already waiting for me, a smirk on his face.

"Having fun?" he asked.

"Yes. There is barely a chance that I, or you, will be reaped."

Servestic was my only friend, and the only person who knew about my tessera scheme.

"Who do you want to be reaped this year?" he asked.

"I pray it is Jeramy Watts this year," I said. "He's a ludicrous imbecile."

Servestic rolled his eyes at my vocabulary, but he knew from experience that he couldn't change it. Because of the number of books I have read, my vocabulary is much more complex than most people's.

"I hope it's Kevin McGrave," he said. "He's escaped it every year. It's about time he got sent in."

"True. I would love to watch him get slaughtered."

I've always been different to the other children in District 3. They call the Hunger Games barbaric, and gruesome, and vile. They hated it.

I've always found it fascinating.

It was intriguing how far tributes were willing to go to win their freedom back – or, rather, as much freedom as they had left. They would do anything to win the games and go back to their district. The human race pushed to the edge – when you're out there, it is survival of the fittest.

**Crescent "Cress" White, 16, District 3 Female**

"Fascinating," I muttered as the ants squirmed under the heat.

I sat outside my house with only a glass jar full of ants and a magnifying glass. The sun was strong today, so I had taken the opportunity to fry some ants. I had been saving them for a while now, waiting for a sunny day, feeding them grass to keep them alive. The weather had been quite dreary, so I had to make the most of the day of sunlight.

The last few ants caught on fire and stopped squirming. Satisfied, I screwed the lid onto the jar and brought it back inside. I headed straight to my room and placed the jar on a shelf with a dozen others. Some had bugs, some had spiders. One had a large rat I had caught. Dead, of course.

"Cress," a monotonous voice said from downstairs. "Dinner is served."

I glanced out the window. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon. I must have finished my experiment just in time.

"Coming, Mother," I replied.

Dinner was always a quiet affair. It was just me and my mother, since my father had died when I was young. Not that I really cared. I didn't care about anything. Neither my mother or I were very talkative, so we ate our simple dinner in silence.

As soon as we had both finished, my mother stood. "I have your Reaping outfit prepared. Come."

I followed her to her room, where she pulled a simple black dress out of her closet.

"This is what you will be wearing."

I frowned. "I do not like to wear dresses. Is there something else that I could wear?"

"You are not wearing cargo pants to the Reaping," my mother replied. "It is expected that you wear something appropriate."

"Fine. That will be satisfactory. May I go now?"

This was how most of the conversations between me and my mother went. Neither of us saw the need to say anything else. It was a waste of time to talk excessively, my mother had told me, or to be extravagant in our feelings. Just say what is necessary.

"Yes, you may leave," my mother said. "Just make sure you get to bed by 10 o'clock at the latest."

"Yes mother."

Looking out the window from my bedroom, I could see the square where the Reaping would be held tomorrow. I had always found the Games interesting. I was curious about how the Capital came up with the idea. It was rather ingenious, I thought. The Capital certainly knew how to show that the districts were at their mercy. It was quite admirable.

The Games, in my mind, were very much like my ants. They were all doomed, in the end. Some just managed to evade death for longer. But sooner or later, they would all burn.

_**Reaping Day**_

**Windows Foresight, 16, District 3 Male**

I stood in the 16-year-old males section, amused at all of the nervous boys standing around me. Behind me, in the 12-year-old's section, I could hear someone wailing for their mother. How pitiful.

The Reaping went as normal. The mayor talked, the escort talked. And then it was time for the names to be drawn.

Servestic, who was standing next to me, gazed around hungrily. "I hope whoever is reaped cries. It's always funnier when they cry."

The escort, dressed in a hot pink and lime green frilly dress, fumbled around the girl's bowl until she found a slip. "Crescent White!" she piped in her silly, high-pitched voice.

After a slight pause, a girl stepped out of the 16-year-old's section. She had black hair in a small ponytail, very pale skin, broad shoulders, a flat chest, and was rather skinny. She slowly walked up to the stage, face expressionless, and stood next to the escort.

"Shame," Servestic sighed. I was hoping for a 12-year-old."

The escort pranced over to the boy's bowl and pulled out a slip of paper. "And the male tribute is…

"Windows Foresight!"

I stood still for a moment, rather surprised. After all the boys I had convinced to sign up for tesserae, I hadn't expected it to be my name that came out of the bowl. Murmurs ran through the crowd, like normal. One thing stood out.

Jeremy Watts, in the section behind me, laughing.

I collected my thoughts and walked out of the section. Surprisingly, I wasn't actually concerned. I was actually rather pleased. I don't know why. Maybe after watching the games with interest for several years, I had found that I wanted to be one of the one's fighting for their life.

Once I was up on stage, the escort said a bit more, and told us to shake hands. As I gripped Crescent's hand, her eyes scanned my face, as if she was a computer and I was a file she was saving to her memory.

I grinned. This girl was smart. I could see it. She had already started collecting information about her competition. She knew the games had already started.

**Crescent "Cress" White, 16, District 3 Female**

I sat in the Justice building, knowing that I wouldn't have any visitors.

My mother would never come. She had no need to. I didn't have any friends or other family members that would want to say goodbye. There was no one that had any reason to visit me.

I was fine with that. It gave me more time to think.

The Hunger Games, just like everything else, are just a number game. I have a 1 in 24 chance at the start. If I survive the bloodbath, my odds will become much better, going up to about 1 in 15, depending on how many die in the bloodbath. Then, if I keep on surviving, my odds will get even better.

Although being in the Games was slightly inconvenient, I was definitely going to put the experience into good use. It was just going to be like one of my experiments.

I had always killed things. To find out how much tolerance to pain they had. To see how they reacted. To see how they look on the inside.

The Games were one of my experiments. And the other tributes were going to be my test subjects.

**A/N: Hey, everyone! First of all, I am so, so, so, so, so sorry for not updating for ages. School has been hectic, and I was going to get out heaps of chapters in the holidays, but my parents banned all my screens, so I didn't have access to my computer. I'm hoping to be able to get a couple of chapters out each week now that school's back. The District 4 chapter will be up as soon as I can. **

**Secondly, thanks to Zevoros for Windows and itsjustanotherwriter02 for Cress! I was going to make the chapter longer, but I was really lacking inspiration. I'll make sure they get more attention later on. **

**There are still two spots left, the D6M and the D5M. If you haven't submitted any tributes yet (or only one) then please feel free to submit a character! Bloodbaths would be very helpful, if possible. **

**Thanks for being so patient with me, and hopefully I'll have the next chapter up really soon!**


	7. District 4

**Like a Lamb to the Slaughter**

**District 4**

_**Day before the reaping**_

**Scout 'Spider' Olympia, 18, District 4 Female**

I slowly opened the window, trying to make sure it didn't creak, and slid outside quietly. Checking to make sure my mother wasn't watching, I ducked behind a house and crept down the street. As soon as my house was out of sight, I straightened up, and sped up my walking.

My girlfriend's house wasn't too far away, only a couple of blocks. I glanced behind me once more and headed down the road.

I was doing well, dodging people and squeezing through gaps, when I accidentally barged into someone. When I saw who it was, I groaned in my head.

It was Headmaster Gregson. The headmaster of the Academy. He was very good-natured and jolly, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that he always talked for _ages_. If he wanted to, he could spend 2 hours talking to someone when passing them on the streets. But I didn't have time. I needed to get back to my house before my mother found out I was gone.

He beamed at me. "Ah, Miss Olympia! Just who I wanted to see!"

I resisted the urge to clench my fists. Instead, I smiled sweetly. "Good morning, Headmaster. What a pleasure it is to see you. How are you?"

"I'm well, very well. What would you be doing here at this time? I would have thought you'd have been training as we speak."

"I'm buying some food for my mother," I automatically lied.

"Ah, well, I don't blame her at all." He patted his large stomach. "The food here is excellent. Now tell me, Miss Olympia – how do you feel about your training?"

"I feel like I am going very well, sir. I feel confident in my abilities."

"Good, good. Well, I've got a little proposal for you."

What I wanted to say: I don't really care. Can you go away now?

What I said: "I'm all ears, sir."

"Excellent," he boomed. "Now, this is top secret, Miss Olympia. You mustn't tell anyone."

I was sure that he had already told all of his colleagues, his friends, and half of District 4, but I smiled. "I won't tell a soul." That was also a lie. But he didn't need to know that.

"Okay then. As you know, the Reaping is tomorrow."

Duh. "Yes, sir?"

"Well, as you have said, you are going very well is your training. You are one of the best girls in the Academy. Therefore, me and my colleagues have decided that you are the best option to volunteer for the Hunger Games tomorrow."

I knew that. I had been one of the best for years. It wasn't exactly a surprise. But instead of saying that, I feigned shock. "Really sir? Me? In the Hunger Games? I'm stoked!"

"Ah, well, I'm sure you'd be great for the job. If you're up to it, of course."

"I would be honoured to, sir."

"Very well," he said, looking particularly pleased with himself. "I will be off then. Congratulations, Miss Olympia. I'm sure you'll do District 4 proud."

"Thank you, sir."

He shook my hand vigorously and wandered off. A few seconds later, I heard him talking to someone else. I sighed in relief and carried on my journey.

Despite being a Career district, District 4 is much more laid back about it then 1 or 2. They have a meeting with all the students and do speeches and have everyone cheer for them. We just find out. And although it is encouraged to volunteer, it is not necessary. Last year, both our tributes had never trained in their life.

I made it to my destination – a small shack in the poorer part of District 4, which we generally call the Bucket. The area smelled of fish, since fish was the most common food in District 4, and therefore the cheapest. It was right near the sea and was always filled with the sound of seagulls.

I knocked on the door of the shack, and after a second it was opened. Rosemary stood in the doorway, her black curls slightly frizzy from the humid air. Beads of sweat dotted her dark-skinned forehead. She looked pretty much the opposite of me, with my sandy blonde hair and tanned skin. Before she could react, I leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss.

"Morning."

She smiled. "Morning to you to. I suppose you snuck out, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Which means I'll have to go back soon, otherwise my mom will have my guts for garters."

"Yeah, okay." She allowed me to come in. I plopped down on her bed.

"I'm volunteering for the Games," I told her. "Headmaster Gregson told me."

"As expected," she said. "You were obviously the best. You nervous?"

"Nah, not really." I was actually telling the truth. It was too hard to lie to Rosemary. "I'm kind of excited."

A worried look crossed her face. "Are you sure you'll be able to do it?"

"Oh no, you're becoming Mother Hen."

She smacked me gently with a pillow. "I mean it. You absolutely sure you'll be able to get back? I wouldn't be able to bear it if you died there."

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. I've trained for this my whole life."

She still didn't look convinced, so I quickly placed a kiss on her cheek. "I won't die, Rose. I promise."

She didn't reply but looked at the clock. "You should probably go. Your mom will realise something's up."

"Yeah, you're right." I stood up. "See you tomorrow?"

She gave me a small smile. "I'll be there."

**Colton 'Cole' Reznor, 17, District 4 Male**

"See you later, Mom!"

My mother frowned. "Cole, is this really the time? I need a bit of help here."

As she spoke, Luna yelled at Luca for stealing her book, Collin asked if anyone had seen his football, and Blayke yelled at all three of them to shut up. Mom spread her arms out as if to prove her point.

"Aspen can help you. Unless something has changed since I last saw her, she still has all her limbs."

"Your sister is on a date. I need you here."

"But Mom, I said I would meet my friends."

"Well you can do that after you've helped me."

I grumbled a bit but did what she said. After 30 minutes, all my chores were done, Luna had her book back, Collin had found his football and was playing with Luca, and Blayke was satisfied that it was quiet enough.

"Can I go now?" I asked.

My mother sighed and wiped some sweat off her brow. "Yes, fine. Be back soon."

"I will."

I headed outside, where the smell of the sea hit me. Me and my family lived just on the outskirts of the Bucket. Our house was bigger than some there, but it was still way too small for our family of 8.

I trudged up the hill until I was at my friend Caleb's house. My other friend, Hunter, was already there, and they were play wrestling in the sand.

"Hey guys," I called.

They both looked up. "Hey," said Hunter.

"You took your time," said Caleb.

"Yeah, sorry. Mom needed me at home."

"Ah, well, you're here now, and that's the main thing," said Caleb, brushing sand off his arms. "You ready for the Reaping?"

"Yup. Do you know if anyone's volunteering?"

"For the boys? Not that I know of. I think the girls have a volunteer, but I can't remember who."

"It's that girl with the glasses," said Hunter. "You know? The tall girl, with blonde hair. My sister said that everyone calls her Spider."

I thought for a moment. "I think I've seen her go into the Bucket before."

"Who?" a voice said from behind me. I spun around to see Avery, my girlfriend, walking towards us.

"The girl volunteer," Hunter answered. "Whatcha doing here?"

Avery rolled her eyes. "You guys talk really loud. I can hear you from my house. I heard Cole and decided to come and say hello." On that note, she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, which made Hunter and Caleb groan.

"Oh shut up," I said. "You're just jealous because you don't have girlfriends."

I spent the rest of the day there, laughing and playing with Caleb and Hunter, talking with Avery and having a good time. I left Caleb's house feeling happy for the days ahead.

_**Reaping Day**_

**Scout 'Spider' Olympia, 18, District 4 Female**

As soon as I had left my house, my best friend Layla was in my face.

"Spider! I heard you're volunteering! Why didn't you tell me?"

I rolled my eyes at my red-headed friend. "I only found out for certain yesterday, and I didn't see you all day. Not my fault."

Layla made a tiny little squeal of excitement as we walked. "Oh my god! If you win, you're going to be famous! Like all of the other victors! You'll have to tell me what it's like to meet them all! Do you think-"

"Layla," I interrupted. "I've got to win first. Don't get ahead of yourself." Layla was a complete history nut. She could have listed all of the victors off by heart.

"Oh, right," she said. "Sorry. Just excited. So, how are you feeling?"

"You sound like Rosemary. I'm fine."

"Who sounds like me?"

Rosemary walked up to us and draped an arm around my shoulder.

"Layla," I explained. "She's being worried for me."

"I've got a good reason to," Layla complained. "You could die!"

"Yeah, I'm worried for her too," Rosemary said. "But Scout will be fine. She's perfectly capable."

Layla didn't look convinced, so I nudged her shoulder. "Come on, let's go. You don't want to miss my big moment."

Rosemary had to leave us once we got there, since she was 19 and no longer eligible. Me and Layla, who was 17, took our places in our age categories. Headmaster Gregson obviously had told everyone that I was volunteering, because everyone in the 18-year-old girls section wished me good luck.

The mayor called for attention, and the square grew quiet.

**Colton 'Cole' Reznor, 17, District 4 Male**

"Where are my shoes?"

"Has anyone seen my dress?"

"Do I have to wear this?"

"No Luna, you are not wearing that!"

"I'm not wearing that! It's gross!"

"Hang on, I can't find my pants."

It was lucky our family were all early risers, otherwise we would have all been late for the Reaping. After clothes were found and deals were made, we were ready to go with 5 minutes to spare.

We all rushed to the square, and quickly sorted out where we needed to go. My mother, father, older sister Aspen, who was 20, and Luna and Luca, the twins who were only 11, stood in the audience. Me, Blayke, and Collin stood with the 17-year-old boys, the 14-year-old-girls and the 12-year-old boys sections, respectively.

"May I have your attention," called the mayor, and the crowd went silent.

The mayor then said his part – the speech he read every single time. I zoned out, instead thinking about poor Collin. It was his first Reaping, and he was terrified he was going to be chosen.

The mayor then handed the microphone, and the attention of the audience, to the escort. She had obviously tried to get into the theme of District 4, as she had plastic fish hanging off her dress on strings. It was truly disgusting.

"Now for the female tribute," she said, and pulled a piece of paper out of the bowl. Before she could even open her mouth, someone yelled out "I volunteer!"

The girl that I assumed was 'Spider' stepped out of the 18-year-old girl section. She looked like a pretty nice person, I thought. Her face was set to a pleasant smile. It was hard to imagine her holding a weapon, but she must have been good if she was chosen to volunteer.

When the escort asked for her name, she said "Scout Olympia."

As the audience clapped for Scout, my eyes settled on one of the victors onstage. I recognised her as Sirena Gibson, the victor of the 126th Hunger Games. She was a real rags to riches story, I'd heard. She used to live in the Bucket, until her name was reaped out of the bowl. Despite not having any training, she went on to win, and came back rich and living in the Victors Village.

_Rags to riches. The Bucket. No training. Victors Village. _Those thoughts swirled around in my head, making me dizzy. Then it clicked.

I thought of my family, my parents who struggled to find money, my 5 siblings that I had to share a room with each night. The nights with not enough food, going to bed hungry. Struggling to find room in our small house.

Why hadn't I thought of that before?

"And the male tribute is…" the escort said, pulling a piece of paper out of the bowl. "Dylan-"

"I volunteer!" I yelled before I could change my mind. Confused murmurs went through the crowd. They knew there was a girl volunteer, but they didn't know there was a boy.

I strode out of my section, ignoring everyone else, and made my way up to the stage.

The escort beamed. "What's your name?" She held up the microphone.

"Colton Reznor," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Now that I was up here, I was realising that this might not have been such a good idea. I hadn't trained before. How was I going to be able to survive? I didn't want to die. I had plans. I could've got a good job, used the money from that to help my family! Why did I sign up for a death match?

I made the mistake of looking towards the crowd. My eyes landed on my family. My mother was sobbing into my dad's chest, and Aspen's mouth was wide open. Blayke looked at me as if I was crazy. Collin's eyes were starting to water.

Last, I saw Luna and Luca. They, surprisingly, hadn't started crying. They were just standing there, mouths pinched. From up on the stage, I could see how tight their skin was over their faces, and how thin and bony they were. I had never realised they looked so unhealthy.

I averted my gaze, heart pounding furiously. No, I had been right before. It was the right choice to volunteer. Even if I got a job, it still wouldn't be enough to feed my entire family plus pay for their other needs. It was the only option.

The escort had been giving her final speech, and now she was telling us to shake hands. Scout's face was the picture of a perfect child – obedient, calm, polite. She smiled slightly as she shook my hand.

As the audience applauded, we were led to the Justice building. I sat on a luxurious velvet couch, waiting for visitors. Was this couch like what my family could have if I won? What they could experience every day?

"Three minutes," the Peacekeeper said, and all seven of my family members rushed in.

Blayke punched my shoulder angrily. "You are an idiot! You are such an idiot!"

"What the hell were you thinking, Cole?" Aspen demanded. "Why? Out of all the stupid things you could have done!"

My mom sobbed and wrapped her arms around me. "Why, Cole?" she asked, hiccupping. "You had a life laid out in front of you! You had great grades! A girlfriend! Oh Cole, what are we going to do?"

I forced myself to laugh. "Ladies, I appreciate the concern, but can you lay off so that I can talk?"

My dad gently pulled my mother off me. Luna climbed onto my lap and lay her head on my chest. Blayke and Aspen stood, sending me glares so fierce it was like they were trying to kill me before the Games had even started. Collin and Luca sat on the floor.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. So you know Sirena Gibson, right? She had no money but when she won the Games, she became super rich and got to live in the Victors Village. Well, I thought, since we don't have enough money, that if I won…" My voice faltered, and I cleared my throat.

Aspen's face softened. "You did it so that we could live in the Victors Village."

"Oh, Cole," my dad muttered. "We would have been fine. We've always pulled through. There's a lot of people in worse conditions than us. It wasn't necessary."

"Well, I'm in it now, so you might as well help me figure out how to win," I said. "Any ideas?"

My family thought for a moment, until Luca piped up. "You're good at throwing stuff."

Blayke snorted. "Luca, that isn't exactly helpful."

"No, he might actually be onto something," Collin said. "Cole's always been good at hitting targets. He knocked an apple off my head with a rock from 10 yards away one time. He's got good aim."

"So?"

"Well, couldn't he do the same thing with a throwing knife?" Collin said.

We thought about it for a moment. Then, slowly, Mom nodded. "He could. Or, it's his best chance."

"Then that's a plan," Dad said, nodding. "During training, practice with throwing knives. Maybe other ranged weapons too. Also, make sure you do some training on edible foods or something. Try survival stations. It doesn't matter if you can throw a knife if you can't survive on your own. You don't know what type of arena it will be. Got that?"

I nodded. I thought they were done, but Mom pulled something out of her pocket. "You can wear this as your token."

I studied it. It was a gold chain with some sort of logo on it. It was a hawk with the words Reznor written across the wings.

"It's our family logo," Dad informed me. "Wear it with pride." I nodded and slipped it around my neck.

Without anything else to say, we just sat in silence for the remainder of the time, filled with just my mom's sniffles. When the Peacekeeper told them their time was up, Luna latched onto me.

"You promise you'll get back?" she asked. "You have to get back."

"Yeah, Luna," I said. "I'll try."

**Scout 'Spider' Olympia, 18, District 4 Female**

My mother was the first one to visit me. Like always, she didn't waste time with empathy. She had known that I was going to volunteer, of course. I had told her once I had got back. After telling her that I had been training at the Academy all day.

"Now, you make sure that you don't kill unless necessary," she said.

"I won't, Mother," I said. I lied. My plan was to kill everyone unless necessary, like if it was advantageous to me.

"And stick with the rest of the Careers until much later on in the games."

"Yes, Mother." Lie. Well, kind of. If I needed to, I was fine with leaving the Careers for a different alliance if it was more advantageous. Which it probably wouldn't be, since the Careers get the Cornucopia and most of the supplies. But still.

"And don't backstab. I hate traitors."

"Yes, Mother." Lies, lies, lies. Backstabbing is sometimes the best way to kill someone off.

My mother studied me, probably checking to make sure I wasn't lying. Thanks to my many years of compulsive lying, she decided that I was telling the truth.

The next person to visit me was Layla.

"Spider, I've got one rule that I want you to follow," she said sternly.

"Which is?"

She frowned. "Don't cheat."

I couldn't help but grin. "Seriously? You expect me not to cheat? You must know me worse than I thought."

Layla pursed her lips. That had always been our main difference. She always followed the rules. I was more of a rebel. I was fine with cheating. She frowned upon it.

"It's wrong," she insisted. "If you win, I want it to be through fair play."

I figured that if I refused again, she would stay and pester me until I had given in. Not really wanting to listen to her rant, I decided that lying was the best option.

I bit my lip, pretending to consider it. Then I sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll try not to cheat." The words slipped easily off my tongue. Just adding to my web of lies.

You would have thought that after many years of being my friend, Layla would have learnt how to tell when I was lying. Instead, her face lit up. "Oh, thank you! I just couldn't bear it if you won by cheating."

She left the room, and then it was Rosemary's turn. This was what I was worried about.

I found it difficult to lie to Rosemary. I could, but it wasn't nearly as easy as it was to lie to Layla, or my mother, or Headmaster Gregson, or anybody. And she was also pretty good at telling when I was lying. If she asked me not to cheat, and I said I wouldn't, chances were that she would realise I was lying.

To my relief, she didn't ask me to do anything I didn't want to do.

She simply asked me to win.

I didn't lie. I said I would.

**A/N: That is officially the fastest I have ever written a chapter. I'm really proud of myself. **

**Thank you to DefoNotAFangirl for Scout and IvyBear15 for Cole! I hope I did alright with two very interesting characters. You will see more of them later. **

**Thank you to everyone who has favourited, followed, reviewed or submitted a tribute or two. It is really appreciated, and it definitely won't go unnoticed. If you haven't submitted a tribute, there are TWO SPOTS LEFT, and it would be helpful if they were Bloodbaths. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	8. District 5

**Like a Lamb to the Slaughter**

**District 5**

_**Day before the Reaping**_

**Victoria Grace, 17, District 5 Female**

"Smile!"

I gave the cameraman a dazzling smile, and as soon as it had flashed, I twirled slightly to show off my dress. It was a rose-gold cocktail dress, with the same coloured high-heels to match it. My ruby red hair had been straightened, and my face was covered in subtle but effective makeup.

"Ok, that will do," my mother said, nodding in satisfaction. "We'll have another quick shoot here in District 5 before the Reaping tomorrow, and then I've got us a shoot in the Capital two days after. Sound good?"

"Perfect," said Emily Mare, my main photographer, as she packed up her camera. Some of the cameramen started packing up too, but the ones with smaller cameras kept clicking. I kept on smiling at them as Emily and my mother went over some plans.

"Miss Grace! Miss Grace!"

A woman who was obviously from the Capital came running up with her own squad of cameramen. She was dressed in a range of different shades of blue, with her wig being pale blue and her heels being a dark shade of navy.

"Miss Grace! I'm Indigo O'Halloran, the reporter for the Glam Bam newspaper! I was wondering if I could do a quick interview?"

I smiled. I wouldn't miss an opportunity to get my name in the Capital paper. "Of course, darling. Let me just get some food. I'm famished."

Two minutes later, I was sitting on one side of a table, with Miss O'Halloran on the other side, and a large platter of food sitting in between us. Her cameramen were taking photos of me already, so I positioned myself so that I looked as fabulous as I could.

"Now, Miss Grace, first of all, how have you been?" Miss O'Halloran asked, scribbling a bit on her note book. "Your fans in the Capital are _dying_ to hear some news about you."

I casually popped a grape in my mouth. "Oh, you know. Rather dreary. I do miss being in the Capital. District 5 is dreadfully boring."

Miss O'Halloran smiled, and the cameras flashed. "I'm sure everyone in the Capital misses you too. Now, onto the topic everyone's been talking about. The Reaping. How are you feeling about your chances?"

"Not at all worried." I made sure the cameramen could catch my relaxed expression. "I have my name in the Reaping bowl 6 times, the lowest someone can for my age. I've had no need to take out tesserae. It's very unlikely I will be Reaped."

"But what if you do?" Miss O'Halloran questioned. "Your chances are small, but not non-existent. What will you do if you are Reaped?"

I laughed. "Darling, this is me you're talking about. I'm a teenage supermodel. I'm practically the richest person in the district. Everyone wants to be on my good side. If I'm Reaped, I'm sure someone will volunteer. Everyone loves me too much to let me be in the Games."

"Well, the best of luck to you tomorrow," Miss O'Halloran said. "Now, we were wondering…"

I stayed there for another 30 minutes, answering questions and posing for the cameras. I didn't mind at all. When you're famous, you need to jump on every opportunity to get your face in the papers.

When I was born, all the doctors marvelled over me. They had no idea how I could be so beautiful. Growing up, everyone always commented on how pretty I was.

Then, when I was 10, a Capital photographer happened to see me while they were getting ready for the Reaping. He was _stunned_. After a quick interview with my parents, they decided that I should give modelling a shot. That photographer got us in touch with Emily Mare, a successful photographer, and we gave it a try.

And I _loved_ it. It became my life. I got to go to the Capital regularly, and I quickly got used to my new life as a teenage supermodel. I got a picture in a magazine for the first time, and the Capital went wild. They loved me. Everyone loved me.

Who wouldn't?

After Miss O'Halloran was done, I followed my mother back to our house. It was one of the most expensive houses in the district, even better than the mayor's. I relaxed into a glamorous lounge and kicked my heels off.

"Maid!" I called.

A young girl, about the age of 14, came running into the room. She had been working for us for 5 years. Her family was extremely poor and needed every penny they could get, and I needed a personal servant. It was a win-win situation for both of us.

"Yes, Miss Grace?" she said breathlessly.

"Fetch me a magazine," I said, placing my feet on a coffee table. "And while you're at it, get me a peppermint mocha frappe, with cream."

"Yes, Miss Grace," the girl (I don't even know what her name was. Sesame?) said, and scurried out of the room.

My mother plunked herself into a chair opposite to me and looked at a clipboard. "Okay. I'm thinking you'll wear that purple halter dress tomorrow. How does that sound, Victoria?"

I scoffed. "That thing? It's so out-of-date. I wouldn't be caught dead in it."

My mother pouted. "But, sweetheart, I only bought that last week, and from one of the best designers in the Capital!"

"Well, I'm not wearing it."

My mother consulted her clipboard again. "Well what about that sheath dress that you bought. The one with the flowers?"

"Lame."

"Oh. In that case, what about-"

"Mother," I interrupted. "I've already decided. I'm going to wear that shift dress. You know? The one with the sequins?"

"But-"

"It's all the rage in the Capital. I want to wear it."

My mother sighed, but nodded. "Whatever you say, dear."

At that moment, the maid came back with my magazine and drink. I looked at the coffee and frowned. "Why isn't there sprinkles on it?"

"Pardon me, mistress?"

"I always have chocolate sprinkles on my coffee. How could you get that wrong?" I inspected it closely. "In fact, I bet you got the whole thing wrong."

The girls lip quivered. "My apologies, mistress. Would you like me to go fetch some sprinkles?"

"No." I poured the drink onto the floor. "Make the whole thing again."

The girl looked at the stain on the carpet, and looked like she was about to protest, but then thought against it. She nodded, swallowing. "Very well, mistress." She took the now-empty glass and rushed out of the room.

"Oh, and maid?" I called after her. She turned around, daring to look hopeful.

"Make sure this mess is cleaned up," I said, gesturing at the floor.

Her face fell. "Yes, mistress." Without another word, she left the room.

**Keith Taylor, 14, District 5 Male**

Most people don't spend the day before the Reaping watching the Victors Village.

I was not most people.

I stood outside the fences that separate the Victors Village from the rest of District 5. Three of the houses were occupied, representing the three living victors we had. The first one was lit up, and figures were visible moving around through the windows. The second house had one light on, and a lone figure could be seen pacing up and down the room.

But it was the third house that I was watching. Not light shone out of that house because all of the windows had big planks of wood nailed over them. No plants were growing in the garden like the first house. No muddy footprints trekked up the path like the second house. It was desolate and bleak, giving off the impression of someone who did not want to be visited.

I knew for a fact that one person sat behind those walls, miserable and lonely.

The person was my brother, Veigar.

7 years ago, he had volunteered for the 131st Hunger Games, at age 18. I was very sick at the time, so I never watched his games, but once he came back, he was different. He didn't want to talk to me. He boarded himself up in his new house and sent me to live with my grandmother. I had never seen him come out of his house, even for the Reapings.

I watched the house for a bit longer, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I knew it was pointless. There was no way to see in or out of that house. But still, I watched.

I eventually give up, and walk away. No need to let my brother ruin my day.

I met my friends underneath a transmission tower, not too far away from my grandmother's house, and instantly cheered up. Nothing could cheer me up faster than my three best friends.

"Dude, you took a while," Kac said, grinning. "I was starting to think you weren't going to turn up. What held you up?"

I smiled. "Ah, you know. Business."

"In other words, pranking someone," said Million, who we always joked was the mature one of the group.

I faked being offended. "Me? Pranking? Why would you think I would do such a thing?"

"Oh let me think," Million said, rolling his eyes. "How many pranks have you set up this week?" He started counting on his fingers. "One, two, three, four…"

"I'm sure Keith had a perfectly good reason," said Tetra, the last of our group. She gave me a wry smile. "Care to enlighten us?"

I wiggled my fingers. "I'm a man of mystery. No one knows what I do, or where I go. It's what makes me special."

Million snorted, which made the rest of us crack up. He rolled his eyes again. "You're about as mysterious as I am reckless. In other words – not at all."

"Harsh, but true," Kac agreed. He nudged me with his shoulder. "So? Who's the victim of your latest prank that no one knows about?"

Little do they know I haven't been pranking. "Tell you later. I've got a job to do."

I gazed up at the tower. I had had worse. I slipped off my gloves and stuffed them in my back pocket.

I grinned at my friends. "Wish me luck."

With that, I started to climb.

I was pretty familiar with climbing, so it didn't take me too long to reach the top. Wind rustled my hair, and I could see District 5 stretching out in front of me.

Being careful not to look down, I inspected the tower. It was just a broken circuit. Easy enough to fix. I got to work, gripping a bar on the tower with my elbow so that both my hands were free.

After two minutes, Kac yelled up at me, "How're you doing?"

I made the mistake of looking down. Kac, Million and Tetra looked 3 times smaller than normal. I tore my eyes away. "I'd be better if you didn't distract me!"

"Sorry."

I fiddled with the wires. I looked away for a moment, to check the time by the sun, and when I looked back, the wire had left a giant burn on my hand. I took it away quickly, even if I didn't feel a thing, and inspected it. It was a big one, going all the way from my thumb to my little finger.

"Another one to the collection," I muttered to myself, inspecting my scarred hands.

When I was quite young, I had to start working, so that my family could eat. I was going well, until one day, I lost both of my hands in an accident. My parents should have thrown me out then and there. I was just another mouth to feed, and now I couldn't work and earn money. But they couldn't stand to chuck me out. We went into a stage where we literally couldn't afford anything. That's why Veigar had volunteered for the Hunger Games. So that, if he won, we would have enough money to survive.

When he came back, now a Victor and with tons of money, he hired someone from the Capital to make me new, robotic hands. That's why everyone always gave me jobs like fixing circuits – because, unlike everyone else, I couldn't feel it if my hands were burned. The only problem was it meant I had to wear gloves most of the time, because my hands were so scarred from multiple injuries they looked quite hideous.

I quickly finished fixing the circuit and clambered back down the tower. Kac, Million and Tetra were still waiting for me.

Kac whistled at the new burn on my hand. "Geez, that's a good one."

I put my gloves back on. "It'll be fine. Like it always is. Anyway, I'm done. Now, who wants to go have some fun?"

Million gave me a pointed look. "Depends. Is it going to end up with someone being hurt?"

"Nah, don't worry. This prank is harmless. Just give them a bit of a shock. Anyway, it'll be someone that deserves it."

"You are really annoying sometimes."

"I consider it my greatest skill. Ready to go?"

Kac cracked his knuckles in response, grinning like mad. Million rolled his eyes but nodded his head. Tetra linked her arm through mine, and her other through Kac's.

"Let's do this," she said.

_**Reaping Day**_

**Victoria Grace, 17, District 5 Female**

"Are you almost ready to go, dear?"

"Yes, mother," I replied, dabbing a last bit of makeup on my face. With a nod of satisfaction into the mirror, I spun on my heels and left my bedroom.

Once I was outside, I found the camera team already rolling. We only had time for a few pictures, so I made the most of it – twirling and posing, making sure they got a shot from every angle. The sequins on the dress shimmered in the sunlight.

Once it was time to go, the only ones that stayed with me were my mother and Emily Mare, who wanted her camera there in case anything exciting happened. The rest of the crew stayed behind.

We were a bit late, which was planned. It meant everyone saw as I walked down and into the 17-year-old girls section. If possible, be fashionably late, is my motto.

Some of the girls immediately greeted me with lots of enthusiasm. Always trying to get on my good side. Why wouldn't you want to be friends with someone famous? I didn't like most of them, of course. If I could, I would put them back in their place then and there. But if I did, it might smear my reputation. Better to be the girl that everyone loves rather than the girl everyone hates. One of the downsides of being famous.

**Keith Taylor, 14, District 5 Male**

"Grandmother, are you ready to go?" I called. No response. I tried again, yelling this time.

"Yes, hang on a moment, dear," my grandmother said, and hobbled out the door. "Just let me lock the door." My poor grandmother was basically deaf. You had to yell if you wanted her to hear it.

Once she was ready, we headed down to the square for the Reaping. Grandma had to go into the audience, and I slipped into the 14-year-old boy section. Kac and Million grinned at me and moved so that they were standing beside me. I looked over to the girl's side and found Tetra in her section. She gave me a thumbs up.

"Welcome, welcome!" called the mayor, and I quickly scanned the stage for my brother. Usually the past Victors sat up on stage with the mayor and escort. But only two of them were there – Nina Hertz and Albert Hydran. I squashed down my disappointment. Veigar had never turned up to the Reapings, even though he was legally required to. Being a Victor had its perks, I guess. He could break the law, and no one could do anything about it.

The mayor rambled through his normal speech, and then it was the escort's turn. She gave a short speech, and then put her hand into the girl's bowl. When she read the slip, she looked crestfallen. "Oh. Um, well. The girl tribute is… Victoria Grace."

I couldn't help but gasp. Kac and Million looked at me with shocked expressions. Everyone in District 5 knew who Victoria Grace was. You'd have to be living under a rock to not know.

There was silence for a few moments, and then a shriek of agony came from the girl's section. The girl herself stormed out of the 17-year-old section.

"This isn't fair!" cried Victoria as she went up on stage. "I'm famous! You can't do this to me!"

The escort looked very uncomfortable. No doubt she was a fan of Victoria. But she shook her head. "Sorry, but we have to. It's the rules. Now, are there any volunteers?" The escort looked out at the crowd with a hopeful expression.

"Someone volunteer!" Victoria squealed.

The girls section was as quiet as a mouse. Not even her most devoted fans dared to put up their hand. Victoria's face turned livid.

"Fine, then," she snapped, flicking her hair. "You'll regret this."

"Um, anyway." The escort plastered on a fake smile, and reached into the boy's bowl. Before I could blink she was saying "Keith Taylor!"

The world blurred. I remember seeing Kac and Million's horrified faces, and Tetra crying out from where she stood. Nina and Albert, the two Victors, shared a look.

I found myself walking up to the stage, not feeling anything but the pounding of my heart. I think the escort told us to shake hands, I couldn't really tell. Victoria's eyes were blue, I noticed in my daze. As blue as the sky.

Then I was in the Justice building, sitting on a couch. Reality set in, and I started sobbing.

My grandmother was the first person to arrive. She rushed forwards and wrapped me in her arms. I cried into her shoulder. She didn't say anything, just muttered soothing comments and stroked my hair. I started to calm down a bit. We just stayed like that, wrapped in each other. Taking in every last detail about each other.

When the Peacekeepers came to take her away, I found the courage to talk.

"I'm going to die."

She planted a kiss on my forehead. "You can survive this," she said. "And if you do die, you'll live on in here." She tapped her chest, right over her heart. "Your parents would be so proud of the man you've become, Keith."

Just before the door swung shut, I called out, "I love you, Grandma!"

I didn't have the chance to see if she even heard or not. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, and tried to compose myself for my next visitors.

Next in were Kac, Million and Tetra. Tetra had obviously been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy. Kac looked like he was barely holding it together.

Million, who had always been the least emotional, looked devastated, but still sat down beside me and started talking. I think he was talking strategy. I wasn't really listening. I was just soaking in the sight of my friends, knowing it was the last time I might see them.

"You've got to come back," Kac said softly. "You've just got to."

"We'll miss you," said Million, biting his lip so that he didn't cry.

"Good luck," whispered Tetra. Then, to my surprise, she leant over and kissed me. When she pulled away, she smiled through tears. "I had to do that. At least once."

I barely registered them saying goodbye and leaving. My lips were still tingling from the kiss.

I was still thinking about Tetra, so my next guest didn't register immediately. When it did, I had to blink multiple times to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

"I watched the Reaping live," Veigar said as an explanation, and plonked down next to me.

He had changed since I last saw him. His black hair was dirty, and his skin was sickly looking. His blue eyes, which had used to be bright blue, like mine, were dull and full of sorrow, and had dark rings underneath them.

"You've got to promise me you'll win, okay?" he said.

A small part of me felt angry at him. No 'hello', no 'how have you been', no 'sorry I completely shut you out of my life'. But the other part, the bigger part, is just glad to see him.

"Promise me." he repeated.

My voice sounded crackly and hoarse. "Okay."

Veigar nodded. "Now, some advice for the arena. You'll have to come to terms with the fact that you're going to have to kill people. There's no other way. You can't win if you don't kill people. Secondly, don't go into the bloodbath. Maybe, if they're careless enough, the careers might leave it with no guard and you can sneak in, but be careful. You'll have enough sponsors to get food. Just hide. You with me so far?"

I nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.

"Okay, last thing. The most important thing. Whatever you do…"

His cold eyes met mine.

"Don't make the Capital mad."

I nodded mutely. I hadn't seen his games because I was sick at the time, and I could never bring myself to watch reruns. But I know that Veigar did something in his games. Something that made the Capital mad. Mad enough to send Peacekeepers to my house and shoot my parents dead. Because I was so sick, they decided I was as good as dead, and left me. It was only when Veigar got home that I was miraculously cured. He then sent me to live with my grandmother, who, apart from him, was my only living relative.

Veigar slipped something off his wrist and slipped it on mine. It was some sort of bracelet, made out of wires. I looked at him for an explanation.

"Don't you remember it?" he asked, and I shook my head. "It was my token. You made it for me before my games. It reminded me that, even if everything looked hopeless, I had to fight. I want you to have it."

I finally found my voice. "Are you mentoring this year?"

He shook his head. "No, but I'll be in the Capital watching. All the Victors have to. And, if needed, I will sponsor you."

He turned to walk out, then hesitated and turned back. He struggled for words. Eventually, he just said, "Stay alive," and walked out.

**Victoria Grace, 17, District 5 Female**

"Do you know who I am?" I shouted at the Peacekeepers leading me to the Justice building. "I'm Victoria Grace! Famous model! I command you to let me go!"

The Peacekeepers said nothing, just gripped my arms tighter.

"The Capital will not be happy. You could be fired!"

Silence.

Okay. Time to take a different approach.

"I have lots of money," I purred. "I can give you whatever you want. Just make sure I can't go in the Games."

One of them had the nerve to roll his eyes. I complained and screamed and tried to kick them, but nothing worked. They just plonked me down on a lounge and left.

I started sobbing. It was a disaster! I couldn't go in the Hunger Games! I was too famous! Too beautiful! It should have been an ugly poor girl that went, not me! I was special!

I could hear a commotion outside. A Peacekeeper was shouting. I could just make out the words.

"Get back, all of you! Only people important to Miss Grace allowed in!"

My fans, I guessed. All wanting to come and say goodbye to me. I was glad the Peacekeeper wouldn't let them in. I didn't want to talk to them. I was still annoyed that no one had volunteered for me.

Eventually, the door opened, and my mother and Emily Mare rushed in. Emily didn't have her camera, I noticed. The Peacekeepers must not have let her bring it in.

"Oh, darling," my mother cried. "This is terrible! What am I going to do? If you die, I won't be able to pay for any designer clothes!"

"This is a tragedy," Emily agreed, pulling a small camera out of her back pocket. "Her fans in the Capital are going to be devastated."

"What am I going to do?" I cried.

"You'll have heaps of sponsors," Emily assured me. "The Capital adores you. They won't want you to die."

My mother perked up a bit. "Yes! We'll buy you through the Games! That's perfect!"

I sniffled, and wiped away my tears. "Well, I suppose they will." I gained a bit more confidence. "Yeah! They will! They'll sponsor me heaps of stuff! I'll live in luxury during the Games, and wait for everyone else to kill each other off! It's a foolproof plan!"

"This can be your token," Emily said, handing me something. It was a beautiful feather (a fake one. Duh) that shimmered in the light. It was all different shades of orange, with some red and gold too. On the back, it was attached to a hair clip. "It's a fake phoenix feather. It will look gorgeous with your complexion."

I nodded in agreement, and slipped it into my hair.

Soon my mother and Emily left, but I wasn't crying anymore. I was starting to feel confident.

Everyone loved me. There was no way they'd let me die. I was the guaranteed Victor.

One of the perks of being famous.

**A/N: Hey, everybody! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was difficult to write because**

**I'm not in any way sciency, and have no idea about anything to do with electricity. It makes it very hard to write about someone fixing a circuit when you have no idea. **

**I'm not fashionable. Look up the opposite of fashionable, and you'd find my name. I honestly have no style at all. In other words, it is really hard to write about a fashionista when you're the complete opposite. **

**Anyway, thanks to Guesttwelve for Keith and Annabeth Pie for Victoria, who are both very entertaining characters to write. **

**Good news – all the spots are filled! Woo hoo! If you didn't submit a character, feel free to read anyway. I'll have the District 6 chapter out ASAP (probably next week). See you then!**


	9. District 6

**Like a Lamb to the Slaughter**

**District 6**

_**Day before the Reaping**_

**Harley Jones, 12, District 6 Male**

"Steady," I muttered to myself as I eased the mouse-trap into the shoe. Once it was in place, I stood up and admired my work.

Apart from the mouse traps in their shoes, I had a few other pranks set up. I had soaked the floor with water and soap, making it really slippery. A farm of ants was in the clothes cupboard, where they were surely finding their way inside every single item of clothing. The stash of beer underneath Aran Zipper's bed that they thought was a secret was filled with hot chili powder I'd nicked from the kitchen, and best of all, I had written JERK on Brunel Power's forehead with red paint. It was lucky they were all such heavy sleepers.

"Harley, come on!" whispered my friend Turbo, poking his head through the door. "Matron will be coming any minute!"

"On my way!" I whispered back, and tiptoed towards them, being careful not to slip on the floor. Once I was outside and we had quietly shut the door, we all burst into giggles.

"I can't wait to hear them screaming," said Martin.

"It's going to be awesome," agreed Cooper.

"Come on," said Turbo, looking down the hall. "We need to get into our room. Matron will kill us if she finds out we're up before the bell."

We slipped into our dormitory of the community home, which was right next to the one we had just booby trapped. We called the eight boys in that room the Oafs – because that was pretty much what they were. Big, hairy, slow, and not a single brain cell in their heads.

We slipped into our beds, trying not to wake the other boys we shared a room with. I shifted uncomfortably, a spring from the filthy mattress that I called my bed digging into my back. There was nothing left to do but wait.

About 10 minutes later, someone started stomping down the hall, waving a bell in her hand. I couldn't see it at the moment, but I could picture it in my mind. Then Matron banged her fist against the door.

"Get up, you filthy maggots," she screeched. "Be in the canteen in 5 minutes exactly or you'll get a spanking!"

Then she moved away, repeating the same message to every room.

All the boys in my dormitory sat up and started getting ready, choosing clothes out of the one cupboard we shared. The other four boys yawned and got ready sluggishly. Me, Cooper, Martin and Turbo hurried, our ears hunting for sound.

We weren't disappointed. We heard a loud yelp, and then a thud as someone's backside hit the ground. There were three identical ones right after.

"What the hell?" I heard one boy yell, and I struggled to hide my grin. Glancing around, I could see my friends were doing the same.

A moment of silence, and then a roar. "WHO WROTE THAT ON MY FACE!"

Turbo snorted, which made Martin laugh. Soon, all four of us were cracking up, unable to stop ourselves. The other boys in our room looked at us, no doubt guessing that we did it, but didn't say anything.

"Ah! Get 'em off! Get 'em off!" someone screamed. "Where did these bloody ants come from?"

We burst into a new round of laughing.

The Oafs didn't have any choice but to put the clothes on – if they went in the same clothes they slept in, Matron would give them a spanking, and there was no chance they'd go out naked. I could hear them cursing as the ants scurried all over their bodies.

"Wait for it...," I said to my friends, grinning in anticipation.

There was a snap, and a scream even louder and higher than the previous ones. "SHIT! WHAT IS IN MY FUCKING SHOE!"

We all cracked up again. There were multiple other snaps, and multiple cries of pain. One bloke yelled "Ow! My finger!" He must have stuck his finger in his shoe to see what was in there. As I said – they weren't the brightest tools in the shed.

"Come on guys, let's have some beer," one of them said. There was a moment where there was no sound except for some gulping. And then…

"Ah! Hot! Holy shit that's hot!"

Soon, there was a chorus of yelling hooligans.

Everyone filed into the hall, streaming towards the canteen. I risked a quick glimpse at the Oafs, trying to keep my face neutral. They were all scratching themselves madly, and rubbing their backsides. At the front stood Brunel Power – the biggest, meanest and dumbest one of the lot. His face was smudged red. He must have tried to rub it off. I smirked, satisfied with my efforts.

"I know you did it, Jones!" he yelled, as if reading my mind. "This has got your fingerprints all over it! I will prove it!"

Yeah, good luck with that, I thought.

As soon as we got into the canteen, Matron pinned her sights on Brunel. She pursed her lips, making her face look even more long and narrow.

"Mr Power," she snapped. "What is on your face?"

"Someone put paint on it," he growled. "We also had ants in our clothes and mousetraps in our shoes. And the floor was wet, so we slipped on it." I noticed he didn't mention the beer. "It was Jones. I know it was."

"And how do you know this?"

He smirked, looking rather evil. "Demica Sanders from room 126 heard them. She could hear voices, so she looked through the keyhole and saw Jones and his three friends coming out of our room."

Behind Brunel trailed a small girl I had seen around the community home. Her face was pale as clammy. I recognised her as Demica Sanders. When Matron turned her eyes to her, she started trembling. "It's true! I saw them! They were coming out of Brunel's room!"

Unfortunately for us, Demica was known for being one of the most truthful people on the planet. Matron obviously knew this too, because she turned her narrow eyes to us.

Shit.

"Well, well, well," she purred. "It seems like you four have an appointment in my office. Now." She prodded us with her cane and we exchanged horrified looks. She practically dragged us out of the canteen.

The last thing I saw from in the canteen was Brunel smirking triumphantly. While Matron wasn't looking, I quickly flipped him off.

Then the door swung shut.

**Arachne Smitter, 14, District 6 Female**

"Look who we have here."

I winced, and turned towards the voice. I had learnt from experience that there was no point trying to escape these types of encounters.

A group of kids stood in front of me. I immediately recognised them as the popular kids. Flawless hair, perfect skin, and a healthy weight. But the dead giveaway was their smug expressions.

One girl snickered. "It's the stupid mute girl."

"You reckon we'd be able to make her scream?" said another.

"Time to find out."

I wanted to yell at them to go away, to leave me alone. But I couldn't. I hadn't been able to for a long time.

One boy picked me up as if I was as light as a feather. I struggled to escape, but he just laughed and gripped me tighter.

One boy stepped forward from the group. Before I could react, he had punched me in the gut. I gasped, momentarily winded. My stomach screamed in pain.

The boy looked disappointed. "Dang. She didn't scream."

"Come on, stupid," one girl said to me. "Just say something and we'll let you go."

I shook my head, and they all laughed. "All right, brainless. As you wish." Another punch. My eyes watered.

As they were preparing for a third punch, I heard a door swing open. Then footsteps.

"Hey, you kids! What are you doing? Get lost!"

The popular kids turned towards the voice. "You're not the boss of us!"

"If you don't go, I'll go and get some Peacekeepers. They don't like people beating other people up, especially when they're defenceless. That's their job. Now scram!"

The threat of Peacekeepers seemed to do the trick. The boy holding me let go, and I fell to the ground with a thump. The kids started to disappear.

One of the girls snarled at me. "Don't think you're off the hook. We'll be back, brainless." Then she hurried off to follow her friends.

I sat gasping on the ground for a while, trying to catch my breath. My saviour had vanished. When I felt like I could actually breath again, I got up and started towards my house, trying to ignore the throbbing in my gut.

This had been my life for a long time. I had always been bullied for being so quiet. It had used to be a choice to stay silent. I used to be able to talk normally, just chose not to.

Now I couldn't.

I had been heading home one day when I was pounced on by some kids who didn't like me. I was trapped on the ground as they punched and kicked me. One of the guys landed a particularly good punch on my throat. After they went away, I found I couldn't speak. The doctor told me what was wrong. Basically, my voice box was damaged. I could still speak, but it was better if I didn't, because my voice came out all rough and croaky, and it hurt. So, I permanently became mute. That just fuelled the bullying.

I eventually reached home, and I could smell something cooking in the kitchen. My stomach lurched. Living in the wealthier part of District 6 meant we had a reasonable amount of food, better than what the poorer parts had. My family had a full belly most of the time.

I stepped into the doorway and was greeted by my little sister Ellie running past and nearly knocking me over. She called out "Sorry!" over her shoulder, without looking back. I felt like scolding her, but I obviously couldn't.

I retreated to my room, my place of sanctuary. Away from all of my family. I opened up a book and started reading.

It wasn't true, what everyone said about me. I wasn't stupid, or brainless. I was quite smart. I could guarantee that I was smarter than the majority of the people who called me 'the stupid, brainless mute girl'. If only I could show it to them.

"Girls, lunch is ready!" I heard my father call from the kitchen. I sighed. Eating with my family was never fun.

As soon as I exited my room, I was nearly bowled over again by Ellie.

"Sorry, Arachne," she said as she ran down the hall. I slowly trailed after her.

My father didn't look up when I entered the room. Ellie was just sitting down, talking in rapid-fire. I could hear my older sister Berenice clomping down the hall. My mother was already eating.

There were only four plates of food at the table.

I bit my lip and grabbed another plate out from the cupboard. Looking into the pot that my mother had prepared delicious-smelling stew in, I found only the smallest amount. I loaded it up on my plate and sat down at the table.

Ellie saw my barely full plate and frowned. "Mom, Dad, you forgot about Arachne again."

My father glanced up. "Oh. Sorry." He didn't look mildly concerned that I didn't have much food on my plate.

This happened sometimes. My father and mother would 'forget' to serve me dinner. Most of the time, I had a reasonable amount of food, but every now and again, I would find myself searching for scraps.

Ellie was the first one to finish. She bounced over to the sink and rinsed off her plate. I quietly followed, before returning to my bedroom. I dived right back into my book, trying not to think about tomorrow.

_**Reaping Day**_

**Harley Jones, 12, District 6 Male**

"Well, this sucks," Turbo sighed, wiping sweat from his brow.

After a firm talking to, a harsh spanking and being told we were receiving less food than everyone else in the community home for a month, Matron also informed us that we were going to be on cleaning duty for the rest of the year. This consisted of washing everyone's clothes, cleaning up after dinner, and, worst of all, scrubbing every wall and floor until it was spotless with only a toothbrush. Which was what we were doing.

"At least it was worth it," I said, trying to keep everyone's spirits high. "It was priceless to hear them screaming like babies."

Cooper just sighed and continued scrubbing.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Matron came and told us that we could go and get ready for the Reaping. We all sighed in relief and dropped the brushes.

"And don't forget, as soon as the Reaping is over, you'll be back here," she warned us as we left.

As I got changed into better clothes, I couldn't help but ponder what it would be like. This was my first reaping, and everyone I had asked told me that it was nerve-racking. I had only experienced it from the side, so I didn't know what it would feel like.

After we were changed, Cooper, Martin, Turbo and I all walked down to the square. We gave each other short good-lucks as we stepped into the 12-year-old boy section and stood to attention as the mayor walked onto the stage.

**Arachne Smitter, 14, District 6 Female**

I bit my fingernails as the mayor talked, nervously glancing around at everyone in my section. I had always hated the Reaping. I couldn't help but wonder which one of the many girls would be chosen.

The escort came up and said a few words, and then she placed her hand in the girl's bowl. She fiddled around for quite some time, and finally chose a slip of paper. She enthusiastically opened it.

"And the female tribute is… Arachne Smitter!"

My heart faltered. I felt as if I had just swallowed garbage. I glanced around me. A few girls looked sympathetic, but the majority looked kind of pleased.

"Hurry up, brainless!" one girl called from a bit in front of me. I recognised her as one of the girls that had ganged up on my yesterday. Trying to stop my hands from trembling, I stepped out of my section and started walking up to the stage. I tried to block the crowd muttering. I was afraid of what I would hear.

I made it up on stage, and the escort beamed. "Lovely! And now, onto the boys!"

Much like the girls, she took her time choosing a slip. I just concentrated on stopping my legs from shaking. With a dramatic flourish, she opened the slip and said "Harley Jones!"

There was a moment of silence, and then a voice spoke. "Dang, seriously? I'm having terrible luck today."

A boy stepped out of the 12-year-old section. He was terribly thin, and very pale. He wore the look of someone from the community home. Unlike most of the tributes that had walked his path, he was grinning.

He swaggered up to the stage, looking strangely confident. He even winked at the escort. "Where did you get that dress? I think I should get one. It would suit me, don't you reckon?" He posed dramatically. A few members of the audience laughed, but it quickly died out.

The escort looked glad for a nice change from the normal gloomy tributes, if not slightly confused. "Wonderful. Give your tributes a big clap!"

Polite applause. I just stood there, trying not to faint. Harley bowed and waved to the audience, his grin never faltering. When we shook hands, I'm sure he must have noticed how sweaty my palms were.

We were escorted to the Justice Building, and into separate rooms. I sat on a couch and waited, clutching my hands together tightly.

5 minutes passed, and my family hadn't come. Had they chosen not to? I knew my dad hated me, but my mum didn't. Berenice and Ellie didn't either. What had happened? I tried to stop thinking about it by reciting maths equations in my head. It didn't work.

The door swung open, and I sat up, thinking it would be my family. When I saw who it was, disappointment and confusion swirled in my head.

Lily stood awkwardly in the doorway, purposefully not looking at me.

When I was 10, Lily befriended me. I had thought at the time it was because she saw me as a regular person, despite not being able to speak. I later found out it was out of pity.

We had always hung out after school. She fed me the latest gossip, I listened and nodded along. Then one day, Lily saw me getting beaten up. She didn't come and help me. Instead, she broke off all her connections with me and started hanging out with more popular girls. She hadn't talked to me since.

Lily stared at the floor. "Um, so… I'm sorry, I guess. I was rude. Um, what I'm trying to say is…" She cleared her throat. "Good luck."

Still not looking at my face, she gave a quick nod and hurried out of the room, leaving me feeling hollow inside.

**Harley Jones, 12, District 6 Male**

I felt strangely out of place in the fancy room of the Justice Building. It was way too nice for a scraggly orphan like me.

I couldn't help but let a few tears slip. It had been a massive effort not to let my fear show at the Reaping. I had been panicking so bad when my name was called. But my motto had always been 'fake it 'til you make it'. Don't let anyone see that you're scared. Smile, joke, flirt, laugh. Behave like an idiot. Pretend you are completely confident.

The door swung open, and I steeled myself. Fake it 'til you make it. I wasn't going to let my friends last memory of me be sad and gloomy.

Turbo, Cooper and Martin hesitantly walked through. They didn't say anything, just regarded me with big wide eyes. The silence stretched out.

I decided to make the first move, so I cracked a small grin. "Well, at least I get out of cleaning duty."

My friends all scowled. Cooper punched my shoulder. "You're an idiot. You shouldn't be joking around."

"Ah, you know me. What do you expect me to do?"

Martin sighed, and hesitantly gave me a small smile. "Well, you are right. Matron will probably be furious that you got out of it."

Just like that, we all started laughing. It wasn't really appropriate, given the circumstances, but I was glad we were laughing instead of crying.

Turbo was the first one to pull himself back together. "Okay, listen up. You can do this. You have plenty of skills-"

I interrupted him. "Turbo, do me a favour and shut up. I can think strategy when I get on the train. Let's just spend this time having fun."

Turbo considered for a moment, and then gave me a weary smile. "Okay. By the way, what was with that whole thing about the escorts dress? You looked like an idiot."

"That was what I was aiming for, yes. To look like an idiot."

We spent the rest of our three minutes together laughing and talking. Despite the looming death match, I wasn't feeling too bad.

If I was going to go die in there, I was glad I had a last bit of time with my friends.

**A/N: Hello! I'm sorry I haven't updated for a while! I'm not completely satisfied with my writing in this chapter, but I hope I did the characters justice!**

**Thanks to Veronicaiscool for Arachne and Skippy McGee for Harley! Next up will be the District 7 Reaping. I'll write it as soon as I can, but I can't guarantee how long it will take. **

**Until next time, goodbye!**


	10. District 7

**Like a Lamb to the Slaughter**

**District 7**

_**Day before the Reaping**_

**Aspen Loam, 16, District 7 Female**

"Good afternoon, Mr Jordan!" I said brightly. "How are you today?"

The old man smiled, his eyes sparkling. "As well as I could be, Miss Loam. Are you on your way home from work?"

It was pretty obvious. My knees were covered in dirt, and my hands were calloused from a day of swinging an axe. "Why, yes I am. What are you doing?"

Mr Jordan sighed. "Praying for whichever poor souls get reaped tomorrow. Terrible times, Miss Loam. Terrible times."

My guts clenched like they did every time someone mentioned the Hunger Games. "Well, let's hope that we get a victor this year."

Mr Jordan looked doubtful, but nodded. "Perhaps this will our year. Good day, Miss Loam."

"Bye!"

I continued walking through the streets of District 7, smiling and waving at people that I knew. I talked to Myrtle Cullen about the weather and checked up with Palmer Forrest about his ill mother. Despite the incoming clouds, making the sky grey and miserable, and the Reaping tomorrow, I felt rather happy.

I made it home and wiped the mud of my shoes before walking in the door. I was greeted with the sounds of arguing.

"I'm telling you, he was up to no good!" I heard my sister Willow saying. "Hanging around, peeking in windows. We should confront him!"

"Nonsense!" my grandfather snapped back. "I'm an old man. You're 14. Tilia and Camphor are 10 and 8. None of us could take him out. Aspen possibly could, but-"

"But I won't," I interrupted cheerfully, walking into the room. "What are we talking about, anyway?"

Willow scowled. "Some creep's been hanging around. I saw him trying to get the back door open. You're strong. You could knock him out!"

I shake my head sternly. "I'm sure he's not what he looks like. And I won't fight him."

My grandfather snorted. "Not what he looks like? He's definitely what he looks like."

Willow opened her mouth to speak, but I butted in. "That's enough for now! We can talk about it later. Let's get dinner ready. What do we all want?"

Willow shrugged. "We can finish off that last bit of chicken."

"Sounds good to me. Grandfather?"

"Don't care," he said gruffly, plonking himself down on a chair.

"Tilia! Camphor!" I called. "Do you want anything in particular for dinner?"

Tilia, my youngest sister, poked her head around the door. "I don't mind. Maybe soup? I think we've still got some mushrooms left."

Camphor, my only brother and the youngest sibling, also poked his head in. "Soup sounds good. D'you need any help?"

"Yes, that would be good, thanks. Soup it is!"

I went to work, grabbing a pot. Camphor scuttled around, locating the ingredients we would need. Despite being the youngest, he was by far the most responsible.

Willow went over to the window, probably checking for the man she had seen earlier, and Tilia went back to her room. From the soft snoring sounds, I guessed that Grandfather had fallen asleep.

Camphor helped me chop up vegetables, standing on his toes so he could see properly. His face was scrunched up in concentration, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth. I couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight.

My family was so important to me. Ever since my parents died from illness when I was 13, we had lived with our grandfather. Being the eldest of four very different siblings was very difficult at times. Willow was hot-headed and constantly arguing, which clashed with Tilia, who was timid and shy, and cried easily. Camphor, who despite being the youngest, was extremely wise, and level-headed and responsible. And then there was me. Constantly being the mediator in arguments, trying to keep my siblings safe while working to make money for us to live on, since my grandfather was too old to work anymore. I had to skip school at times to manage my life.

_But it's okay,_ I told myself, as I prepared dinner. _We're okay. Life is good. _

**Grover Darkwood, 15, District 7 Male**

"Grover! Have you got that wood yet?"

"Yes Dad!" I called back. Lifting the big plank of wood onto my shoulder, I trudged back into the workshop, where my father was carefully carving a design into a piece of wood with a carving knife. He barely glanced up at me. "Put that over near the door."

I obliged, nearly tripping over my feet in the process. "Is there anything else you need?"

"I think I'm good at the moment. You can go if you want."

I agreed, and quietly slipped out. I spent most of my time helping out my father at the shop. He made furniture to be sold in the Capitol. Most of the time, I didn't do any of the finer work. My hands were much too big. My dad handled the actual making of the furniture. I just did the easy stuff. Chopping the wood, fetching stuff for my dad. Using my large size to the best of my ability.

I made it home and had to duck slightly to get in the door. I immediately headed for my room.

On the way, I passed my sister Amber. Amber had the same ginger hair as me, but whereas mine sat neat, hers was a wild mess of curls. She beamed at me, displaying her crooked front teeth.

"Mum said she needed your help," she chirped, bouncing on her toes. "Ivy threw a ball on the roof and Mum isn't tall enough to get it."

I nodded mutely and headed out the back. As Amber had said, Mum was trying in vain to reach a small ball on the roof.

"I've got it, Mum," I said, reaching around her and easily grabbing the ball. She smiled wearily.

"Thanks, Grove. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ivy, my youngest sister, tugged on my hand. "Can you help me decide what to wear tomorrow at the Reaping?"

I gave her a small smile. "Wouldn't it be better if Mum helped? She is a girl, after all."

Ivy pouted. "But I want _you _to help! _Please_!"

"Okay, okay. I'll be there in a second."

Ivy grinned enthusiastically and rushed to her room, with me trailing behind slowly. When I reached her bedroom, she was already digging through her cupboard.

"I'm thinking of wearing something blue," she said, inspecting a dress. "Or should I wear pink?"

I rolled my eyes behind her back. Ivy was almost as bad as a Capitolite when it came to clothes. I was going to be there for a long time.

_**Reaping Day**_

**Aspen Loam, 16, District 7 Female**

"You are not wearing that to the Reaping!"

Willow glared at Grandfather. "What's wrong with it?"

Grandfather's face went red with rage. "You're pants have holes in them. Your shirt has a stain going down the front. You haven't even made an effort!"

"Why should I?"

Before my grandfather could reply, I smoothly entered the conversation. "Just do it, Willow. It will take 5 minutes."

Willow grumbled a bit, but reluctantly went back inside and changed her clothes to something cleaner. Once we were all sorted, we headed off.

The square was already packed by the time we got there. Grandfather, Tilia, who was 10, and Camphor, who was 8, all went in to the audience to watch. Willow headed into the 14-year-old girls section, and I squeezed into the 16-year-old girls section. I flashed everyone a smile, which a few people half-heartedly returned.

"Welcome!" the mayor said, looking rather nervous. We hadn't had a Victor in 13 years. He knew we would need one soon.

The mayor said his part, and then it was the escorts turn. Sabrina had been our escort for 40 years, and didn't look a day over 20, but she acted very much like an 80-year-old. She very slowly pulled a piece out of the girl's bowl, her face scrunched in a scowl. She went back to the microphone, and in a bored demeanour, said "Aspen Loam. Please come up."

The girls around me stepped back like I was poisonous. My mouth hung open in shock. Me? Did she just say my name?

Fear started to settle in. Trying to stop my lip from quivering, I took a tiny step towards the stage, and then another, and another. The walk to the stage felt like it went on for an eternity. When I was up there, I tried not to look at my family, because it would make it even harder.

Sabrina rustled around in the boy's bowl for a moment and chose a slip. "Grover Darkwood," she drawled.

There was a moment of silence, and then a boy stepped forward. I had to do a double-take. He was giant. Despite coming out of the 15's section, he was taller than the majority of the boys in the 18's. He was also rather bulky and looked very strong. For a moment, I thought he might have been a strong competitor. Then he stumbled over his feet, making a few people in the crowd laugh. His eyes, which I noticed were a very bright blue, were brimming with tears as he climbed the stage and took his place next to me.

Sabrina ordered us to shake hands, which we obeyed. Grover's hands were giant, completely wrapping around mine. I gave his hand a small squeeze, trying to comfort him. He gave me a tiny little smile.

As Sabrina finished off, I couldn't help but try to find my family in the crowd. I couldn't see them. They must have been heartbroken. I couldn't let them see me like this. Just before we were led off, I gave the crowd a smile, to reassure my family. Then I was pulled away.

I was shoved into an extravagant room in the Justice Building. Not even a minute later, the door opened, and my family came rushing in.

"This is so unfair!" raged Willow, kicking at a velvet couch as if it was the Capitol. "Why did it have to be you!"

Tilia, who was already crying, buried her head in my shirt, and I stroked her hair soothingly. Camphor gripped onto my hand. His face was full of fear, which was unusual for him.

"You can't go, Aspen," he whispered. "We need you."

"I don't have a choice, Cam," I said, trying to keep my tears in. "I have to."

Willow growled. "Stupid Capitol. Stupid Reaping. Stupid Games. Fuck this!"

"Willow," I said sternly. "You can't say things like that. The Capitol will hurt you!"

"I don't care!"

"I do! And they'll also hurt Tilia and Camphor, and Grandfather as well! Do you want that?"

Willow went quiet. My grandfather coughed.

"You have to come home, Aspen," he said. "That's an order. We believe in you. You are strong enough to survive this."

I nodded, even though I wasn't so sure. "I've taught you well, Grandpa," I said, smiling slightly.

My grandfather chuckled quietly. He had always been rather pessimistic, so I had been teaching him to think positive. Apparently, it had worked.

A peacekeeper came in, and I gave everyone a last hug. I smiled at them, wiping a tear away. "I'll try to come home. I promise."

The peacekeeper escorted them out of the room. Camphor was also crying now, as well as Tilia. "Aspen!"

"I love you!" I called out at the last minute, just before they disappeared. Then the door swung shut and I was alone again.

**Grover Darkwood, 15, District 7 Male**

I sat on a couch in the Justice Building, crying.

There was no way I would be able to survive the Hunger Games. My only strength was being strong. I wasn't fast. Or ruthless. I couldn't climb trees or identify poisonous plants or even build a shelter. I couldn't even hide properly, because I was too big. I knew I was doomed.

The door swung open, and my family came in. Ivy's eyes were filled with tears. Amber was unusually quiet. Mum was biting her lip. Dad was pinching his lips.

"Use your strength to your advantage," he said shortly. "Your best bet for a weapon is an axe. Try to find one."

My mother started sobbing and slapped my father's arm. "You heartless man! Your son is going into a death match and that's all you have to say!" She hiccupped and wrapped her arms around me as best as she could. Ivy and Amber climbed onto my lap.

"You might be able to survive, Grove," Ivy whispered.

"You know I won't, Ivy," I said, trying and failing to stop the flow of tears coming from my eyes. "Even if I had the skills, I couldn't. I won't be able to hurt anyone. I couldn't live with the guilt of killing someone. Just face it. I'm going to die."

Amber let out a small sob, and furiously wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Mum was too distraught to scold her.

We stayed in a tight bundle of arms and legs until the Peacekeeper arrived to take them away. We said our final goodbyes, and I tried to soak in the image of my family, knowing I would never see them again.

Then they were gone, and I was alone to wallow in my sorrows.

**A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry for not updating for a while. I had exams, which is always time consuming, and then I had a case of good old writers block. But I've got the chapter out now, and although it isn't very big, it's better than nothing. **

**Thank you to catscoolusername for Aspen and Skippy McGee for Grover! Because of their chapter being shorter, I'll make sure to give them extra attention later on. **

**I'll have the D8 chapter out ASAP. Until then, see ya! **


	11. Author's note 2

Hi guys! Not an update, just an author's note.

The holidays are coming up, and my parents are being really annoying and banning all of my screens for the whole 6 weeks. Because of this, I will not be able update in the holidays. So unless I manage to get out a chapter in the next 3 days, I will not be updating for a while.

I hope you all have a great Christmas, and I'll see you next year!


	12. District 8

**Like a Lamb to the Slaughter**

**District 8**

_**Day before the Reaping**_

**Ezme McVernon, 14, District 8 Female**

Keith wiggled in my hands, trying to escape. I carefully held him, trying not to touch the injured wing. The small bird chirped, and squirmed, so I gently put him back in his cage.

"Ezme!" my mother called. "Lunch!"

I gave Keith one last pat on the head, and then headed into the kitchen. My mother gave me a smile. "Not much today, just some leftover stew."

I sat down across from my brother, Cole, and my mom placed a bowl in front of me. Cole was already eating, slowly lifting the spoon to his mouth with a faraway look.

My mother glanced at my clothes. "You really shouldn't wear that while eating. You might spill something on it."

I was wearing an old dress I had found in my mother's closet. She generally didn't wear nice clothes anymore, so I had taken to wearing them. Mom hadn't worn nice clothes since Dad died.

"It's fine, Mom," I replied. "I'll be careful."

My mom pursed her lips but didn't say anything.

The kitchen went quiet, and I searched for a topic to talk about. Without thinking, I said, "Do you think anything exciting is going to happen at the Reaping?"

Cole fumbled with his spoon; my mom gave me a disapproving look. The Reaping was a subject we all avoided, for Cole's sake.

4 years ago, Cole had been reaped for the 134th Hunger Games. He was saved by his best friend, who volunteered for him. That friend died early on in the games. After that, Cole had not come out of his bedroom for 3 weeks. He had barely touched the food we had set out for him. We were sure he was going to die. Finally, my dad had convinced him to come out of his room. He had made a recovery but thinking about the Reaping made him go all silent and closed off. It was always a bad time of the year, because of all the constant reminders of the Reaping, and then the Games.

Cole stared down at his stew. Mom looked at me, then nodded her head in his direction.

I sighed. "Sorry, Cole."

He gave me a weak smile. "It's okay. I'm fine."

He obviously wasn't fine, but neither me or Mom said anything.

We went back to an awkward silence. I ate my stew, occasionally glancing at Cole. He stared into space, his stew left untouched.

Mom was the one to say something. "So, Izzy, what are you and Gemma doing for the project?" she asked in a strangely bright tone.

I smiled, relieved for something to talk about. "We're looking at Peacekeeper uniforms. It's actually kind of interesting."

At school, our task was to, in pairs, research types of clothes District 8 manufactured. Each year we had a project, and at the end, the parents would come and watch us present.

My mom nodded. "Sounds good. Excited for the presentation?"

"Yeah. But it hasn't been the same since Dad-" I cut myself off before I could say anything more, but the damage was already done.

It was now Cole's turn to give me a disapproving glare. My mom took in a shaky breath, and turned away from us, focusing on the task of cutting up a carrot.

I winced, scolding myself. I was doing great today. In 5 minutes, I had managed to bring up the two forbidden topics, the Reaping and Dad. Why was I being such an idiot?

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I'm going to feed Keith." I stood up and scraped the last little bit of stew into a container for another time.

"I'm going to pick some strawberries," Cole said quietly, and joined me in saving the food he hadn't eaten. Mom didn't look at either of us, just stared down at the floor.

I headed back to my room, which I shared with Cole. I heard the door slam as Cole left. As soon as he had left, I heard Mom start sobbing.

Ignoring the horrible feeling in my gut, I opened Keith's cage and picked him up. He seemed to pick up on my distress and chirped softly. I stroked his head absent-mindedly, cursing myself for ruining the day.

**Colliner "Cole" McVernon, 18, District 8 Male**

I headed towards the strawberry patch, trying to clear my head. Try as I might, I couldn't.

Memories swirled through my brain. Dad helping me with my homework. Stitch rating the girls in our class on their looks. Dad telling me and Ezme a funny story at dinner, laughing heartily. Stitch punching a guy who was teasing a little kid. Dad tucking me into bed each night. Stitch greeting me with a big grin each morning. I tried to push them down, but they kept on coming back, making me feel sick. I didn't need to see it. Not now.

I reached the strawberries, and promptly threw up. I felt slightly guilty at eating that stew only to throw it up again when we could have saved it. But it was too late now.

I couldn't help but think about the day I got reaped. I had been so sure I was going to die. I had stood there, willing myself not to cry, as the other boys had stepped away from me as if I had some sort of disease. And then Stitch had volunteered, looking scared but determined. Later, when I asked him why he had volunteered, instead of letting me die, he just gave me a weary smile. "You have a family you have to look after," he had said. "I don't have anyone who will miss me."

I had told him I would miss him. He laughed. "You'll probably be the only one, mate."

He was right. No one really cared. Of course, people felt bad for him, but no one actually _cared_. His father certainly didn't, and he didn't have any other friends apart from me. No one in the Capitol did. No one in any of the other districts did. No one in District 8 did. He was just another tribute, just another boy doomed to die.

I was the only one who remembered when he died. He hadn't grabbed anything at the Cornucopia and was facing the icy wasteland with no supplies. He died in his sleep. Hypothermia. I remember hearing his cannon go and feeling numb as the hovercraft took his body away. I didn't cry. I just felt empty.

I tried to bring myself back to the present. I couldn't go back home like this. Mom was already upset enough, and I couldn't do that to Ezme.

I filled my basket with strawberries, and headed back home, avoiding the square, where I would be reminded of the Reaping. Pushing open the door, I didn't hear anything but soft snores.

I found Mom asleep at the table, her cheeks tear-stained. I gave her a soft kiss, and headed into my room, leaving the strawberries in the kitchen.

Ezme startled when I walked in, then looked guilty. She was still beating herself up about it, I could tell. I hated seeing her upset. We had never been extremely close, but after Stitch had died, she had become my best friend, even though I wasn't hers.

Right now, I didn't feel like talking though. I lay down on my bed, facing away from her, and tried to get rid of the bad memories plaguing me.

_**Reaping Day**_

**Ezme McVernon, 14, District 8 Female**

I got dressed as quickly as I could, not wanting to face Cole or my mother. I still felt guilty about yesterday.

I rushed out of the house and was greeted by my best friend Gemma. Her curly orange hair was forcibly pulled back into a bun, which made her look quite strange. I grinned. "Very posh, Gem. How long did it take to do that?"

Gem smiled. "Only about a couple of hours."

We both laughed, and headed to the square, Mom and Cole on our heels.

When we arrived and got checked in, I glanced at Cole. His face had gone very pale, and he looked like he was reliving bad memories. I put my hand on his shoulder. "Cole? You alright?"

Cole startled, but when he saw it was me, he put on a grin. "Yeah, I'm good. See you after, okay?"

Before I could reply, he was off into the crowd.

Me and Gemma found our place in the 14-girl's section just as the mayor tapped on the microphone.

**Colliner "Cole" McVernon, 18, District 8 Male**

I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants as the mayor started his speech. I felt close to fainting. This never got easier, coming here. I banished the thoughts of Stitch volunteering from my mind, and tried to focus on what the mayor was saying, but I wasn't taking anything in. After not very long, the escort, Ajax, had the microphone in his hand and was reaching into the girl's bowl. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled out a piece of paper and read it out.

"Ezme McVernon."

My heart stopped.

The girl's parted, and Ezme came into view, looking as shocked as I felt. She wasn't moving, just staring at the escort with wide eyes.

She looked at Gemma, who was staring at her in horror. Slowly, she took a step out, and made her way to the stage.

Reality sunk in. I felt my breath catch in my throat. "No! Ezme!"

She looked in my direction, fear in her eyes. I couldn't just stand there.

I tried to get to her, but there were people everywhere. I called out again, louder, "Ezme!"

A peacekeeper grabbed my arm, and I struggled to get free of his grasp. Another grabbed my other arm. "No! Ezme! EZME!"

I kept on calling her name, trying to get to her. I couldn't let another person I loved die. Stitch, Dad, and now Ezme.

Ezme stood next to the escort, looking like she was going to faint, but not crying. Ajax reached into the boy's bowl and called out a name I didn't recognise. Before I knew what I was doing, I screamed "I volunteer!"

The crowd went silent. The peacekeepers let go of me, and I practically ran up to the stage and enveloped Ezme into a hug.

"I'm not going to let you face this alone," I said softly. She nodded against my chest, breathing unsteadily.

Ajax looked unsure of what to do. Eventually he settled with asking me what my name was.

"Colliner McVernon," I replied shakily. I could hear my mom crying.

Ajax grinned. "Ah, so this is your sister! Couldn't let her take all the glory, I suppose!"

I glared at him in response.

"Give a big round of applause for your tributes!"

There was a bit of half-hearted clapping, and then we were escorted to the Justice Building. To my dismay, they put me and Ezme in different rooms.

"Can I go see my sister?" I asked the Peacekeeper guarding my door.

"No."

"I won't try to escape, I promise. You can escort me there, if you want."

The Peacekeeper looked at me warily. "What if someone comes to visit you?"

"They won't." That was true. Stitch had been my only friend, and now that he was gone, I had no one.

"Fine then. But no funny business."

I complied as he grabbed my arm and lead me there. "Three minutes, I suppose."

I rushed inside. My mother was already there, hugging a sobbing Ezme. When she saw me, she leapt up and hugged me.

Ezme came up and hugged me too, and we stayed in our tight hug for a while. When we broke apart, Ezme wiped her eyes.

"I'm going to die," she whimpered.

"No you're not," Mom and I said at the same time.

"I'm going to make sure you come home," I told her. "I promise."

And that was the truth. I was going to do everything I could to get her home. I would fight. I would kill. I would make sure she was safe.

_But that means you'll die, _the little voice in my head said. _And you don't want to die. _

_Shut up, _I told the little voice in my head. Unfortunately, it was true. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live the rest of my life. But if Ezme was to live, it meant I had to die.

There was no other way.

**Ezme McVernon, 14, District 8 Female**

Mom and Cole left so she could say goodbye to him in private. I took a deep breath to try and control my nerves.

This was so unfair. I was going into the Games, and to make it worse, Cole was coming in with me. Only one of us could survive.

I hated myself for hoping it was me.

The door opened again, and Gemma came in, looking tearful. She wrapped me in a massive hug, and I returned it.

When Gemma pulled away, she said "You've got to win. You've got to come back."

I doubted it. I didn't think I'd make it past the bloodbath. I didn't say that, just replied "I'll do my best."

Gemma squeezed my hand. "You can. I believe in you."

I wished I believed in myself.

The Peacekeepers went away, leaving me to my thoughts.

I knew Cole was trying to protect me. He volunteered for me. I knew he would want me to live.

I hated myself for even thinking it, but I thought that if we both worked together, we might be able to get me home. I didn't want him to die, of course, but it didn't look like I had a choice. Only one of us would be able to go home. And Cole wanted it to be me.

It was the only option.

I didn't want to die.

**A/N: Hello! If you are still reading this, I'm very impressed since I'm such a lousy person and haven't updated in a few months. Thanks for being patient with me!**

**Thanks to PopcornAndFanfiction for both Ezme and Cole! I hope you like them as much as I do. **

**Also thanks to Veronicaiscool for reviewing. When I'm having extreme writing block, all I need is someone to review, and I feel motivated again. It makes me remember that there are people who are reading, because sometimes when there's no reviews for a while, I forget and lose all motivation. So thanks for reviewing! It made such a big difference! **

**Stay tuned, and make sure you review!**


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